straight

Arlo, on the Day You Forgot the Word "Squish"

On August 17th of 2014 you had a horrible day. It was absolutely fucking shit, actually. It was by no means the worst day you will ever have but to you, at the age of seventeen, it was a shitty day.

It was raining, and not the nice kind of rain that you have make-out scenes in. It was the ice cold, soak through even your thickest coat type of rain. It was the kind of rain that needs hot drinks while sitting in a bubble bath, or the kind of rain that calls for Bon Iver and reading books. It was not the rain you go outside in. And yet, you went outside.

Your parents wouldn't let you get a car (and later you will understand why. You're a really shitty driver), and for this reason it was necessary for you to walk seven blocks to get to the cafe downtown. You would have brought your umbrella, but it wasn't raining when you left so you didn't think it was necessary. But two blocks from your destination it started downpouring.

You ran the last two blocks to the cafe, your Converse sloshing around in puddles until you could feel the water through your socks. Your face was getting shot by raindrops, and you wondered how it was that something so sweet and lovely could be so brutal. The wind ravaged your sides and you felt physical pain from the cold.

You opened the door of the cafe and got a lovely blast of cinnamon and cloves scent. The cafe never smelled like coffee and this was so fucking strange, but so fucking lovely. You couldn't figure out if the scent came from the coffee used in the cafe or the candles on every table surface, but oh god did you love it. You would have lived in that smell every single day of your life and never get sick of it. It smelled like Christmas and happy memories.

God, was that day shitty. You thought about it as you waited in line (it's weird that there was a line, no one ever goes to the cafe when it's raining). You counted on your fingers all the things that went wrong that day:

1. You got dumped by your absolutely fantastic boyfriend

2. You failed your chemistry test (this may have been a result of number one)

3. Your sister was being interviewed for a job and you were fully expected to listen in and try to help her from afar, and you were furious.

It wasn't even like your sister was bad at things. Actually, she was fucking perfect at practically everything. She probably would have been able to nail the interview, get the job, get a promotion in her first week, then become the President of the United States if she wanted to. She was skilled, from cooking to running. And sure, she had subpar people skills, but that wasn't your fault. And it's not as if she helped you with anything, like studying for that chemistry test you just failed.

Yet there you were, giving up some of the time you could have used doing something better (like the make up homework for that test). God, you were such a saint.

You finally got to the counter and muttered your order without really realizing you had done it. You had come to this coffee shop often enough that you were almost surprised they didn't remember you at this point, so often that you sometimes forgot you even ordered something until you realized it was in your hand. Plus, you had so much shit on your mind that there wasn't room inside for the words "breve with vanilla". (Okay so breves have a fuck-ton of calories and are 89% fat, but it was the kind of day that you allowed yourself to eat what your father would yell at you for).

"You must be Magenta!" a loud voice boomed from behind you. You didn't need to turn around to know he was talking to your sister. Mags had a very identifiable name (who the fuck names their kid Magenta?), and along with that she had a very identifiable laugh, one that showed itself only moments after the man spoke.

"You must be Mark! Thank you so much for taking the time to meet me." Magenta was the kind of loud that made you think of boat horns. She went well with the man, who was equally deafening.