Chapter Two [Edit]

Morning, a start to a new day. A new day which has already gotten off to a bad start? Chris woke up with his eyes fixed on the clock on his bedside table. They grew wider, but it took a few more seconds for it to reach his brain and let his body react. ‘Shit’ he cried out pulling the cover from the bed exposing his naked body to the cold air. There were a few mumblings of other words, mainly beginning with ‘F’ that were strung together to form sentences. “Why the hell” He threw a t-shirt on and a pair of jeans rushing around trying to find a clean pair of socks, ‘’God damn alarm didn’t hear it go off’’. The words continued to form sentences that best not be repeated.

Opening his front door he stepped out into the front garden, patting his jeans pockets making sure he had what he needed keys, wallet, phone and odd bits of change. Slamming the door behind him he threw his bag onto his shoulder and looked at his watch, there should be a bus due any second. Walking down the narrow path in the narrow weed ridden garden he opened the old gate, it squeaking as he did so and then clashing, shaking a little as he shut it. The bus stop was just at the corner of the street, four houses from his and he saw that people where at the bus stop a good sign that he won’t miss this one, like he did with the other two last night, which was also a good thing he thought because it meant he had the right change for the bus. It’s an odd thing, but he likes to have the right change. When people get on to pay everyone else in the bus is looking at them, and if there at the front for more than 5 seconds you can feel that cold look that emits from everyone. People who don’t have the right change slow things down. This will not do, and they will be punished! Usually the people in the bus would quickly re-organise their seating positions whilst the driver takes his time in returning the change (he’s in the act too). Everyone seated in their new positions and the person now moving, looking for a seat. The only seat, the only seat next to the old man with stains on his cloths and teeth (well those that are left). Giving of an odour of cigarettes and urine, the bus driver smiling satisfied that though he is now a minute late, the person truly responsible will pay for the rest of the long, slow uncomfortable journey. This is why correct change is needed, one of those unwritten rules of life. There are others, but they will come out in time I’m sure.

''Who the hell wants to go to town this early on a Saturday’’? He mumbled to himself pulling out the change from his pocket. Most Saturdays he would have to, earlier in fact for work. It had been awhile since he got a full weekend off work and was looking forward to sleeping and eating junk food. The sound of the doors opening always amused him. Like a piston sound, as a kid he always pretended that the doors where the entrance to a futuristic space fighter. Far from the real thing, an old metal can that’s running of gas. Coughing and squeaking smelling of a mix of horrid smells to create a super stench must have had one hell of an imagination as a kid to block all that out.

On the bus he folded his bus ticket into a thin strip and started flicking it between his fingers, allowing his mind to wander. He really wasn’t looking forward to this. He had a horrid feeling what was going to happen. He’s been in a relationship for a few months, well almost. They started off quite sweet but soon turned bitter. She was attractive, but personality wise is where the problem lay. She was just scary loud, aggressive and kind of dumb. Not what he usually goes for, which truth be told hasn’t been a huge number.

He got word yesterday off one of her equally scary friends that she was thinking of breaking up with him, didn’t really bother him to much. Just annoyed him she wanted to meet at the cafe where he always goes. His expression suddenly turned from being quite gloomy to optimistic.

Eyebrows rose and eyes open biting his bottom lip; bus ticket still flickered between fingers. He remembered about his notebook. Not all bad, he thought, one less journey. He pulled out some big headphones out of his bag, the sort of headphones that DJs use, giant things that seem to swallow up the ears. Fiddling around in the bag with his left hand trying to find his music player, punching the play button, he sat with the bag besides him and lent back on the chair raising his knees and pushing them against the seat in front of him. Not all bad, he thought once more, his eyes shut and the bus gently rocking moved along the roads through the streets and alike.

The coffee shop wasn’t really busy, not usually is at this time of day. Just a few souls spread across the thin long room. The waitress sat besides one of the smaller tables with a hot chocolate and a toasted sandwich in front of her. The uniform she wore was a simple thing really. Black pants and a brown shirt. On one side of the shirt was the cafes logo and the other displayed a small badge ‘Donna’. The door opened and a young woman walked to the counter, she was there maybe a few seconds before coughing. ‘’Excuse me’’ she said in a bitter manner. Her eyes burning a hole into Donna, who seemed to be deep in thought. ‘’Oh sorry, what is it you would like?’’ she pleasantly replied placing the book onto the table. She started to make her way behind the counter looking at the young lady ‘’I always find myself getting lost in a book, everything else is a blur’’ she said with a smile on her face.

The young lady tightened her lips and rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t really read’ Donna nodded ‘large coffee’ she said throwing a crumpled up note onto the counter. Donna just nodded taking the note. The cash draw opened with the sound of loose change clashing. As Donna was counting the change a voice from the doorway spoke to the boorish young woman, ’Hey Natalie, how yah doin?’ The till draw closed and Donna held out the change waiting for Natalie to take it. In an extremely loud and sarcastic manner she placed one hand on her cheek and held her mouth wide open, she posed for a second. ‘My god you’re on time!’ Chris just sighed and moved to the counter looking at Natalie with a look of disgust and boredom. ‘Sit down, I’ll be right over’. They looked at each other with sheer poison. She grabbed the change from Donnas’ hand that was still held out and she stormed off to the far end table. Chris waited until her distance was far enough to allow him to whisper to the Donna. ‘Sorry about that’ he said with a soft smile. She replied with the same soft smile and whispered voice ‘It’s ok’. Their eyes met for a second a meeting that neither of them felt uncomfortable with. Then she leant back slapping the counter with her hands making a little beat ‘So, same as always?’ He laughed and nodded. The money was exchanged ‘Bring them to you in a moment’ Donna said. He made his way towards the table taking the head phones from around his neck and placing them into the bag, then placing the bag onto the floor beside the table.

Donna could just see them from where she was, and though she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn’t help but watch them as it was apparent that they were arguing. She scoffed (not realising that (1) she had done so and (2) it was quite loud). An argument is when one person says something and the second person with return a response. Basically a discussion with the volume setting raised a little higher. If that is what an argument is, then this clearly was not. Natalie seemed to be saying enough for both of them. Chris just sat there nodding. Natalie’s voice started to rise and her movement was getting agitated, hands swaying left and right. Donna couldn’t hear much from the counter, just the odd emphasised word. ‘You’re a dull shit’. ‘Always working, always reading, and writing your dumb fucking stories’ Donna picked up both mugs and started her way to the table. She saw Natalie stand up and lean towards Chris shouting into his face ‘Don’t you care?’

Donna placed the mugs onto the table and quickly walked away, sitting down on a table and placing the book in front of her face, trying not to make eye contact with the devil woman.
‘I really don’t’ Chris said. Her Face white and her jaw dropped. ‘You’re a horrible person; I don’t care if I’m boring that’s just me.’ She grabbed her coat from the back of the seat and wrestled with it putting it on. ‘Hell I like being boring. I like waking up in the morning with a clear head. Unlike you waking up every morning with another guy in your bed, I’m Boring, you’re a whore!’ this made Natalie Shriek and storm off. It made Donna blush; she was fighting back a little laugh. She kept it down and stirred into the pages and Natalie stormed past slamming the door behind her.

There was an awkward silence then he got out of the chair and walked at the end of the room where an old couple sat on one table and across from them sat a mother and her young son, seven years or so. Donna Watched with his back to her. He then apologised for the display of language that the young lady and himself had displayed. His apology was greatly accepted by all and he walked back to his table, the old couple saying how wonderful it was that some young men still have manners. He made a small joke that Donna couldn’t quite hear and the couple laughed.

Making his way back to his table he looked towards Donna and mouthed his apology, she simply nodded and smiled. But her smile dispersed when she saw the confused look on his face. He picked up both drinks from the table placing the coffee Natalie had ordered onto the counter, and carrying his own onto the same table as Donna. Sat across from her she lowered the book, to see that he was smiling. ‘I’ve read that book, like a hundred times’ he said pointing to the book. ‘Good isn’t it?’ smile still on his face.
‘I only bought it because the title caught my eye’ (The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse). He gave a huge roar of laughter, ‘yeah same here’. He took a sip of his hot chocolate but keeping his eyes on hers. She didn’t say anything. He placed the mug down.

Chapter 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Chapter One [Edit]

It was a simple yet warm cafe. The sort of place where the tables are surrounded by sofas and the food they served where such rich delights to taste, comfort food at its best. It was a quiet place hidden in one of the many backstreets of a small English town. A lot of students and artistic intelligent people all speaking the tongue of their works and their days, whilst sipping there second cup of coffee or taking that last bite of that moist chocolate cake off the spoon. The waitress’s where waitressing and the smiles never ended. In the far corner from the entrance there was a small table, as there are in cafes. Would seem a weakness for a cafe not to have tables for people to place their drinks and so forth. This table held host to two chairs and on the table lay a notebook, bound in brown leather. Clearly over used as the cover and condition of the notebook it’s self was falling apart pages loose, stuffed in between the covers.

At the counter there was a young man of twenty two years or so throwing a few odd coins into the ‘tip’s’ jar, and politely smiling goodbye to the waitress as he does every day. Throwing the bag over his shoulder and placing the hood over his head he opened the door. And set off into the rain.

The rain was hitting and disorientating the young man’s vision as it hits the lens of his glasses.
The winter hours meant that the day was turning dark faster than anyone would really care for.
The street lamps and headlights of cars passing by seemed to envision star like shapes of colour on the lens, a beautiful but distracting thing the man thought, whilst having to take his glasses off to wipe the lens.

He had been walking quite far ten minutes or so, and reached the bus stop, sitting down on the small red bench he placed the glasses back on and checked the time on his watch, having a few minutes to spare he placed the bag on the floor between his legs and rested on the sheet of glass behind him. He was the only person in the bus stop as he looked around through the plastic windows [Or whatever material those flimsy things are] and saw that the roads where deserted, the streetlamps swaying as the wind became increasingly more aggressive. Empty streets on a night like this had a faint sense of peace about them. Chris was one of those guys that wouldn’t mind walking home from a friends at four in the morning, just to have the streets and roads to himself the soft fresh breeze hitting his cheeks and the birds singing their songs of the morning, though these winter nights didn’t give the same desired effect.

Some more time had passed and the only signs of life where the odd busses that past his way. Looking at the watch his concern that maybe he had missed the bus seemed to becoming increasingly so. It’s a rare occasion but sometimes the busses get to the stop early, and don’t bother to wait. Giving it a few more minutes and still no sign of the bus he choose to battle the weather than to wait another twenty minutes or so for the next one. Throwing his bag over his shoulder and stuffing his hands in the pockets he set off into the wind and rain.

It had been a few steps when a sudden though hit him like a brick thrown at his head. Which is how he got the small scar on his forehead, but that’s another story. He realised that he had left his notebook at the coffee shop. Doing the maths he figured if he ran there and back he would have time to catch the next and worryingly the last bus of the night.

A Gamble he was willing to take, and in doing so ran through the empty roads and streets kicking his way through the puddles that lay in his path.

His baggy jeans had become heavy soaking up the rain at the bottom, the jeans swinging heavily with each step he took whipping the floor and then the top of his shoes, spraying the dirt and water with it. He was almost at the coffee shop, a number of thoughts rushing though his mind. Will the book still be on the table? Would someone of picked it up? Maybe the staff and they could have put it aside for someone to claim it. The thoughts jumped out of his head just as fast as he jumped to the side, just missing a young woman with a very elaborate, yellow umbrella. Not turning back he shouted his apology and kept running. It was a shame he didn’t turn to face her. If so he would have seen the young lady he almost knocked to the floor was in fact one of the waitresses who worked at the coffee shop. This would have lead to her explaining that she closed the shop but a few minutes ago.

He gave a loud sigh (which could have be considered as a shout) stood there in front of the coffee shop with the closed sign stirring him in the face, almost mocking him. Tired, pissed off and soaked to the bone he gave off a few heavy breaths spinning his back to the shop and once more set off in a fast flash of anger towards to bus stop.
Chapter 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7