open.
Straightening her drooping shoulders, she preceded him
into the shop and went quickly behind the counter. Shoving the
newspaper on a low shelf, she grabbed a tall cup and began filling it
with coffee. Wishing her heart rate would take a damper, she popped
on a lid and pushed the cup across the counter to Daniel. Then she
bit her lip. “You know, I didn't even ask if you wanted your usual.
I'm sorry. I shouldn't have presumed.”
He took the coffee and handed her a five. “Feel free
to presume, Charity.”
She gulped at the look in his eyes.
“ And keep the change.”
Charity watched him go to his table, then she turned
toward the cash register. Making change with nerveless fingers and
dropping the difference in the tip jar, she was thankful for a task
to keep her scrambled thoughts from assembling into anything that
resembled order. Because she just wasn't prepared for that.
***
Home—usually the place that bored her to tears—now
seemed like a refuge. A refuge from Jessie's endless prying and Amy's
artless comments...and Daniel's disturbing smiles. Why had she wanted
to see him smile so badly? Little did she know how a twist of the
lips could upend her world and make it so she didn't know whether she
was coming or going.
Her stomach
rumbled—reminding her she'd been too ruffled to eat lunch. Have
I gone shopping lately? I must've. I got paid .
The fact that she couldn't remember her last grocery
trip only confirmed her muddled state. Sliding off the bed, she went
in search of food. The refrigerator yielded sliced turkey and bread.
A sandwich it would be. But as she bit down on the assemblage of
bread, meat, tomatoes, and lettuce, she was forcefully reminded of
lunch with Daniel.
Charity sent a dark look at her sandwich and decided she
needed the distraction of TV. Naturally, that was too much to ask.
Fuzzy snow was the only result of a frantic flipping of channels. She
went to Holly's door and knocked. “Why is the cable still out?”
After a moment, a muffled response came through the
door. “You forgot to pay it.”
“ That's what you said last time, but I paid my half of
the rent, and rent also includes the utilities.” Charity twisted
the door knob and peeked through the crack.
Holly stared at her, a paintbrush in her mouth, while
standing in front of a large canvas covered in some strange swirly
pattern of color. “Go ask the landlord,” she mumbled around the
brush. “Kinda busy here.”
Suppressing an urge to get huffy, Charity headed
downstairs and knocked on the manager's door, located at the ground
floor of the four story building.
The door cracked open and a plume of cigar smoke coiled
out into the hallway, followed first by a nose, then a pair of
glittering eyes under bushy eyebrows. “What?”
“ Mr. Gerald, the cable is out in apartment 408.”
The brows came together. “You don't have cable.”
“ Yes, we do. It comes with our utilities.”
Another puff of smoke.
“ Should I get my rental agreement?”
“ Don't get snippy, young lady. Did you tighten the
coaxial cables? Make sure there was a good connection?”
It couldn't be that simple. “No, I didn't think of
that.”
“ Well, if that doesn't work, come back.”
This time she did huff. “Fine.”
“ Hey, I haven't had any other reports of anyone's
cable being out. It's probably your coaxial.”
“ Thanks for your time, Mr. Gerald.”
His door snicked shut.
Charity stomped her way back to her apartment, hoping
against hope she could figure out what in the world a coaxial thingie
was. Once she was back inside, she looked behind the television set.
The power cord was the only cord she saw. Did that mean she didn't
have a coaxial? Then she saw a black cable poking out from under the
couch.
Charity pulled it out from under the couch and looked at
the end. She saw a small wire protruding from the center of a
threaded metal tube. She peeked at the back of the console. There was
a threaded metal protrusion
Straightening her drooping shoulders, she preceded him
into the shop and went quickly behind the counter. Shoving the
newspaper on a low shelf, she grabbed a tall cup and began filling it
with coffee. Wishing her heart rate would take a damper, she popped
on a lid and pushed the cup across the counter to Daniel. Then she
bit her lip. “You know, I didn't even ask if you wanted your usual.
I'm sorry. I shouldn't have presumed.”
He took the coffee and handed her a five. “Feel free
to presume, Charity.”
She gulped at the look in his eyes.
“ And keep the change.”
Charity watched him go to his table, then she turned
toward the cash register. Making change with nerveless fingers and
dropping the difference in the tip jar, she was thankful for a task
to keep her scrambled thoughts from assembling into anything that
resembled order. Because she just wasn't prepared for that.
***
Home—usually the place that bored her to tears—now
seemed like a refuge. A refuge from Jessie's endless prying and Amy's
artless comments...and Daniel's disturbing smiles. Why had she wanted
to see him smile so badly? Little did she know how a twist of the
lips could upend her world and make it so she didn't know whether she
was coming or going.
Her stomach
rumbled—reminding her she'd been too ruffled to eat lunch. Have
I gone shopping lately? I must've. I got paid .
The fact that she couldn't remember her last grocery
trip only confirmed her muddled state. Sliding off the bed, she went
in search of food. The refrigerator yielded sliced turkey and bread.
A sandwich it would be. But as she bit down on the assemblage of
bread, meat, tomatoes, and lettuce, she was forcefully reminded of
lunch with Daniel.
Charity sent a dark look at her sandwich and decided she
needed the distraction of TV. Naturally, that was too much to ask.
Fuzzy snow was the only result of a frantic flipping of channels. She
went to Holly's door and knocked. “Why is the cable still out?”
After a moment, a muffled response came through the
door. “You forgot to pay it.”
“ That's what you said last time, but I paid my half of
the rent, and rent also includes the utilities.” Charity twisted
the door knob and peeked through the crack.
Holly stared at her, a paintbrush in her mouth, while
standing in front of a large canvas covered in some strange swirly
pattern of color. “Go ask the landlord,” she mumbled around the
brush. “Kinda busy here.”
Suppressing an urge to get huffy, Charity headed
downstairs and knocked on the manager's door, located at the ground
floor of the four story building.
The door cracked open and a plume of cigar smoke coiled
out into the hallway, followed first by a nose, then a pair of
glittering eyes under bushy eyebrows. “What?”
“ Mr. Gerald, the cable is out in apartment 408.”
The brows came together. “You don't have cable.”
“ Yes, we do. It comes with our utilities.”
Another puff of smoke.
“ Should I get my rental agreement?”
“ Don't get snippy, young lady. Did you tighten the
coaxial cables? Make sure there was a good connection?”
It couldn't be that simple. “No, I didn't think of
that.”
“ Well, if that doesn't work, come back.”
This time she did huff. “Fine.”
“ Hey, I haven't had any other reports of anyone's
cable being out. It's probably your coaxial.”
“ Thanks for your time, Mr. Gerald.”
His door snicked shut.
Charity stomped her way back to her apartment, hoping
against hope she could figure out what in the world a coaxial thingie
was. Once she was back inside, she looked behind the television set.
The power cord was the only cord she saw. Did that mean she didn't
have a coaxial? Then she saw a black cable poking out from under the
couch.
Charity pulled it out from under the couch and looked at
the end. She saw a small wire protruding from the center of a
threaded metal tube. She peeked at the back of the console. There was
a threaded metal protrusion
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