Red lipstick stains

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Red Lipstick Stains

"So whos starting?"
Coffee. The staining scent of coffee flooded the small cafe, aroma so dense that it became hard to breathe as the writers group sat gathered at a booth. They were all there for their own reasons, some selfish and others altruistic. Surrounding the group were various small tables which contained the same image of college students Keith was so used to. Vapid, self absorbed patrons, all following an aesthetic not decided by them, but by the droves of social media influencers parading the same style. Sweaters that enveloped every limb and thick rimmed glasses, each student had their own variation of sticker plastered Macbooks, allowing each one of the parrots a tiny bit of self expression. Every coffee shop had the same appearance, an unknown artist blaring over the speakers, chalkboards littering every empty corner, each one decorated in their own messy handwriting, every inch screaming of manufactured nostalgia. Companies had perfected the art of manipulation, artificially inserting smells of fresh baked cookies or the appearance of something being homemade.  Disney sparking the whole craze. Now, even genuine passion projects fell victim to this dirty tactic, this cafe being a perfect example of that.

Mr. and Mrs. Thompson had opened up Lovely Blends a few years back, first starting as a humble passion project, family owned and cheap. Despite this, he grew up hearing nothing but negativity, his mother often spewing insults towards the couple. "Wasting money!" she scoffed, putting her Marlboro Red cigarette out against the dull gold whale ashtray, only adding to the heaps of speckled grey ash spilling over the edges. "That money could go to a family that needs it! But no, they just had to go start a stupid ass buisness."  She spoke with aggression, baring her teeth in a growl, causing her discolored swollen lip to thin out into a line. Her neck was splattered with garish purple splotches, little speckles of red breaking through the overbearing mix of colors. Keith had become used to this, seeing his mother in that little black cocktail dress, frantically pulling on the length, hoping to cover whatever dignity she had left. It was always the same. Crudely bleached hair pulled back into a bun, hair cascading over her pale eyes, bright red lipstick contrasting her cool-toned skin. She always put herself together when she needed to, curling thin lips into a sickly sweet smile, harshly gripping onto his arm as she spun vast stories of her ability to mother.

"Oh, what a sweet woman!" The pudgy social worker giggled, brown strands of curly hair falling before her warm face. She was well put together, brand new grey Anne Klein blazer, frilly pink blouse--just transparent enough for her black Vanity Fair undergarments to be visible. Finishing off her outfit, her bottom half was devoid of any color, the most colorful thing being her classic black slacks, fabric hugging her hips and thighs, creating soft ripples in the cloth. The Social worker flashed a cheerful grin, soft eyes squinting as she looked down upon Keith,  resting her newly manicured hand upon his black hair, giving him a careful pat of assurance, eyes trailing down him cautiously as if he was a violent dog. She carried a whole file on him and his mother, nestled comfortably between her abnormally large breasts and arm, but nothing was ever investigated. Everything was behind closed doors, his mother always being able to paint a perfect mask over both of them, over their life. He found himself chasing after the fantasy of his mother, allowing her to twist his thread around her finger, especially after the news came of his father. Died. Burnt to a crisp on the line of duty. Called away from home, sacrificing his life, ruining his family, for the insignificant life of someone he didn't know. Asshole. He couldn't help but resent his father for leaving him with his mother. Nothing would ever be the same after his death. He ruined everything. But that took years to come to a head, only until after he left home did he realize what his mother put him through. Countless nights without sleep, clothes stinking of those same Marlboro Reds, cockroaches scurrying at the flick of any light. Nothing would ever bring back the childhood he deserved.