Broke an' Homeless

Chapter Nine: Attempting To Be Nice Results In A Hot Soaking

Chapter Nine: Attempting To Be Nice Results In A Hot Soaking

For once, I woke up in a good way. My eyes eased open and, with slow blinks, adjusted to the sunlight streaming in through the crack where the curtains didn’t exactly meet. I lay on my left side, my arms out in front of me. Head still heavy with sleep, I shut my eyes again. Sleep tried to drag me back, but something else – something equally strong – held me in place, leaving me stuck in a limbo. I wanted to get up yet at the same time I wanted to sleep. To my body it felt late. My mind on the other hand, seemed to be as fresh as the early morning air. Confused, I rolled onto my back then sat up. 

Let me confess something to you: whenever I wake up, I always have the impression that I look really adorable when rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Now that I had a mirror in my room, I could see – crystal clear – that that was not the case. I looked more like a depressed teen about to burst into tears. 

I smacked myself twice, a left and a right, before kicking the covers off and swinging my legs over the side to get up. My mouth stretched open into a yawn along with the rest of my body. Minus the yawning, of course. I looked into the mirror again with a frown. Apparently I got a new hairdo for free from my beloved pillow. The left side was flattened to my head, while everywhere else spiked up in odd directions. I groaned and ran a hand through my hair to give it some sort of symmetry. Not that it worked.

Throwing the towel in I headed for the bathroom and grabbed my toothbrush, ready to burn my mouth to clean nothing. A note was stuck to my mirror in a familiar scrawl.

Kid, there’s no coffee left. There’s a great café about three blocks away, just off the main road.

P.S: Get coffee on your way back.

I groaned. Looks like Erica would walk into my bathroom. After squeezing a blob of toothpaste onto my brush I began scrubbing, mouth overpowered with the strong mint taste. Two minutes later I stepped out of the bathroom and made a beeline for the kitchen. I wasn’t a coffee addict or anything, but I liked a good cup from time to time. The key hung on the hook. A quick peek in the fridge told me that there was nothing good, all the leftovers cleared out. Some sauces were all that was in the fridge. I eyed the clock on the microwave.

Nearly twelve.

With a shrug I grabbed the key, my wallet and my jacket and headed out to Erica’s recommendation. Knowing her, it was easily one of the best coffee shops nearby.  Erica was super picky when it came to her frappès and ice-coffees.

Outside the sun shone strong, the rays bouncing off the silver of my old car. I yanked on the handle. Nothing happened. Realisation smacked me in the face and had me doubling back to get my car keys. Keys in hand, I ran down to my car and jumped in, ready for a caffeine rush.

The neighbourhood Erica stayed in was quiet. Her next door neighbour was hardly a bother and everyone in the complex seemed pretty nice. The guard even grinned at me and waved as I exited.

Three blocks, I mused. Did she mean right, or left? Taking my chances with instinct I swung left, following the road. On the side of the road a kid sat, probably bored. As I passed by, the kid flung something at my car.

Clink! I frowned and looked in the rear-view mirror. A beat-up truck was behind me. I watched, my gaze flickering between the road and the vehicle, as the kid flung something at that vehicle as well. This time, I caught sight of what he threw. A rock. An irritated scowl crossed my face. Half my mind was tempted to turn my car around to give him a stern talking to. The bigger half of my mind was wanted coffee way more. Naturally, the latter won. I was starting to think that whole, ‘The bigger they are the harder they fall’ line was total BS. The bigger they are the stronger they fight back is more like it.