Days never began like this for me.
I woke up at an unusual hour of the night to the scene of esoteric silver moonlight slipping into my room through the window.
Cold milk sat indolently beside the table lamp on my bedside, amber light shining onto the white surface.
'When did I bring this here?' I thought, peering through heavy eyelids at the glass of milk. Picking it up, I finished it in one gulp. It was bitingly cold against my warm lips, ridding me of drowsiness in an instant.
I stood up and strolled airily to the window. Pulling it open, the cool autumn air gushed in, filling my lungs. The scene through the window filled me with a symbolic radiance I couldn't quite explain. Perhaps it was because of the knowledge that I was no longer the only human being under this roof.
At the thought, my fingertip caressed the dusty wood of the ledge, my face flushing despite the cool wind sweeping my nightdress.
Images of a certain stony visage whizzed through my mind to remind me of his abrupt settlement only yesterday.
'Is it that pleasing to know that he is only steps away from you?' A dastardly little voice whispered into my ear. Not to mention, this voice sounded suspiciously like my own.
Impossible! How could I, who prides myself on being unrivaled in the criminal world, be smitten with a man who leads the force responsible for arresting peerless crooks like myself?
'But hadn't you left the underworld? Isn't this your chance to begin a new life, one that isn't spent alone, painting, and wasting away here? One that is spent doing more...fun activities, say, what you're imagining at this moment...' The voice was softer - gentle - as it imprinted its notions onto my heart and mind, making my ears turn crimson.
But my black eyes became increasingly thoughtful and remote as they gazed into the evergreen mountains and the boundless night sky varnished with stars.
The sky stretched into infinity. The pale crescent moon shone like a silvery claw or a teardrop gliding imperceptibly down the infinite sky. Suddenly, I wondered if he was looking at the same sky, from the room steps away from mine.
I leaned my head against my palm with my elbow against the windowsill as my eyes absorbed each trembling leaf and every twinkling star, deep in thought. I was beginning to come to terms with it myself - that I was in love.
I covered my lips with my palm, recalling our earlier encounter and the feel of his chest and breath that left my mood erratic with emotions.
My hand drifted gradually to my chest where I could feel my frenzied heart pulsating fast and hot, in anticipation. 'But the anticipation of what? Him?'
My heart did something impossible and skipped a beat.
. . .
I flipped the pancake with droopy eyelids that morning.
Darn you, vivid imagination! You simply 'had' to ruin my sleep with your depraved dreams, didn't you?
After randomly wakening and drinking that milk, I hadn't slept a wink, but when sleep somehow wormed its way into my system, my alarm helpfully blared into my ears to remind me it is time to rise and shine for dawn.
Furthermore, I was in dire need of new ingredients, now that there was an extra mouth to fill. My desert of a fridge simply lacked the luxuriant cuisine for a certain stony stomach.
It was now 6:30 am. A certain someone was taking his precious, valuable time to sleep, apparently not disturbed by any sexually stimulating dreams unlike...well...unlike someone else.
Quizzically, I shut the entrance behind me as I stepped into the garden that was cast with dew and shadows of animals only then awakening.
I inhaled the fresh mountain air with a smirk before fetching my mountain bike.
The contraption sliced through the cool, morning air and the fresh breeze slapped against me as I flew down the slope.
The slope was tarmacked, and the asphalt winded past evergreen trees. I cycled through several tricky corners before coming to a stop at the foot of the mountain where the land stopped looking as though it was dropping into Purgatory. Of course, at the end of that slope was not Purgatory, but instead, a small, quiet town.
I hopped off my bike and started my stroll through the town, pushing the midnight-blue bike alongside me.
There were several houses with roofs made of red brick and walls painted black or a deep cerulean shade. The paint looked new as though houses were built recently and the gardens were striped with well-tended plants with enviable shades of green.
I looked around at the quiet houses which eventually morphed into stores, shops, and diners with 'OPEN' signs.
I soon spotted the tall, urban building with grey paint that I was looking for. The Supermarket. Like, literally, that was what the sign read. Other than the large, luminous green 'OPEN' right beneath it.
I left my bike in the parking lot, then I sauntered into the supermarket, my stale-grey sneakers squeaking noisily against the green linoleum floor.
I heard an incensed shout from the cashier's desk, where the cashier, a blonde guy with enough tattoos and piercings for me to have labeled him a walking artwork, sat indifferently. Two people stood before him - a lady and a girl. The lady was the one who shouted. She looked like an ordinary housewife, with shoulder-length brown hair, horn-rimmed glasses that were fixed on her angry, brown eyes, and a basket filled with veggies strapped to her shoulder. Her clothes were as flowery as they could get, with prints of daisies, daffodils, lilies, carnations, roses- maybe even oleander, like the young sir Eugene I had met before.
The girl, meanwhile, looked around my age, or perhaps younger. Depends. I think I look pretty young, but I'm older than I look.
She had striking golden hair that swept past her thin waist and blue eyes that were big for her face. So to speak, her face was small and heart-shaped. Her skin was fair and looked like cream from where I stood.
She looked like a fairy. And dressed like one even, what with her pleated, yellow skirt that ended somewhere above her knees and her checkered yellow-and-white blouse with yellow suspenders.
But honestly, she was dazzling. And her moist eyes only grazed an onlooker's heart. My heart, to be specific, considering that I was the only onlooker in that deserted supermarket.
However, I couldn't help but notice that the older lady's gaze was centered on both the detached cashier and the crying Barbie. This made me question which toe had the lady been stepped on, such as to even treat the girl abhorrently. Or maybe I was just biased. I didn't even know them.
But I knew the cashier. I glanced at the young man who was looking at the lady austerely, almost as though he had no idea who she was. But I had a feeling he did.
I frequented the supermarket whenever I was on errands, and the building was often empty. From my brief interactions with the cashier, I was aware that he was one hell of a lying, spiteful gigolo. On my second visit to the supermarket, the cashier - whose name, I gathered from the placard on his chest, was Jones - had appeared surprised by my coming again.
Most likely, he wasn't used to seeing someone a second time. And he had, immediately, conjectured and reached the conclusion that I was 'out to get him', as he had so eloquently phrased while twitching his eyelid in what I think might have been a foxy wink - only, it was not foxy. It only left me uncomfortable.
As I looked upon that scene in the early morning, I couldn't help but eavesdrop.
The older lady looked angry as she exclaimed, "You lying cheat! Each time I come here, you're the same old mess! I wouldn't have cared for you, if not for your misbehavior with my step-daughter!"
Jones looked up at her, only smiling ignorantly in reply. He gave a short, dirty glance at the younger girl who was shedding tears pitifully. Jones clicked his tongue, returning his gaze to the older woman.
"Misbehavior? Madam, if anyone has misbehaved, it's your daughter here. Who told her to come here seducing every Tom, Dick, and Harry? Let me not mention how many dicks the slut must have-"
"I will have you shut your beak right this instant!" The girl snapped, eyes still moist and red. I was awestruck to hear such words come from her delicate face. After all, she looked like such a docile young lady.
The girl continued, eyes angry yet also deeply hurt, "Jones! You're right to say I'm at fault. For one thing, I'm at fault for ever believing a two-bit, lying snake such as you! But I'm not going to cry and enter the devastated hole you want me to! I'll have you know that my life is going to be so much better with you nowhere in it!"
The girl was about storm out of the supermarket, tears shining in her eyes, but the older lady grabbed her arm. The girl glared at the other lady, "You! Let me go!"
"Abigail! Have you forgotten the reason we came here in the first place?" The girl's stepmother retorted. The blonde girl whose name was Abigail tried to tear off her stepmother's vice-like grip but to no avail. The older lady was much too strong for the dainty little girl to contend with.
Suddenly, Abigail's eyes wandered and interlocked with my gaze, which was also focused on her. I was standing by a shelf of chocolates, and I realize I must have looked quite queer. Abigail though only had one thought in her mind.
She moved her mouth discreetly, no sound escaping her lips.
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