Time flies, only when I seek for it. Around a good 15.
Walking over the same boring drunkards or coffee lovers, my feet suck on running.
"I look over advertisements!"
Daniel, adhered, replies within a typical pulled a face to Rin. He is taking a break, while me...I am extending my torment. Dan has a very amiable tone of humor especially in talking with employees.
"They are lies, one big shit!"
He seethingly responds, while consuming a slice of orange.
"Don't expect me to expect you to believe everything, sack-head!"
Daniel kids as he digs his major fingers in cups with a dry clean towel. His major willingness: spinning eyes, so fascinating staring. Rin noisily sips all coffee.
I kneel on a couch, to get the shit mind distraction. I hurl a flock of hair around earlaps to make guilt sound levitating and pair on calming music.
The voices lessen the grumpy headache itches. I keep double eyes crossed with the conversation and the same: the door.
It is turning cloudier, but no raindrop is seeming to land. God that would be a relief, if yes! The bland mixture of orange and coffee sicks. Although I act insipid, avoiding any chance to go ground.
I sink my shrugged shoulders under a cloud of doubt. The darn university is soon approaching, I have hundreds of debts to clear out.
I begin to rethink:
"Should I delay school?"
And the old unfashionable answer fumble turns odd. The parted lips mull, taking bitter nips of cracked flash.
"Or should I keep on? God, please help me out!"
I pray, blasting an expressionless neck towards the wall. I scroll the depressed wrinkled brows with tips and not even good idea bears.
Then I head-crazy re-budge, being a nasty buggy around ironed table clothes. I define hands on them, still spoiling across ill thoughts.
I ask, refined. Nobody eyes on me. I run over gaunt fingers on the fabric. They are white, beautiful, and plain hard-edged.
I query again, bothersome, this time firm-voice:
Daniel scolds. I back away from the soft massage, humming.
"Don't fucking know. Around 16, the responsible guy will take them. Along with 6 samples of wedding cakes...
He answers, swaying the blue metal Bic pencil. Obviously, he is keeping track of orders on a white sheet.
"Oh my god!"
I throw a grimace to the pile of kerchieves and stocky clothes: fix my encumbered hair aside laps and chide winsomely.
"I may help! I have done this job before and forever!"
"Please keep away!"
He accosts ineffectively. I don't listen. I thud resilient.
My voice alters childishly pleading or some solid muffled.
"Let me help!"
He continues on his own. His kind is one of the kind...regressful, duplicitous, and unhelpful.
Then assuringly, I come on aid:
Clock clanks almost 16. I scrape my head in ordinary tenacity. I look over messy dumb organized behind kitchen shutter. Dish jangle and mad screaming...
I abide by the rules, sadly tongue-tied. I bash on top of dirty cups. I coy, clean up the mess Daniel left miserably. The flowing water is sticky due to the saccharine of the dishes. I take a metal scrub and rub it roughly. Sweats are dripping well.
I suppress neatly wrapping sleeves and carefully shut the tap off.
"Two large cups of black coffee and a banana juice!"
I burke, red on the face. Rin stupefies.
"Proceed with the voucher!"
I rinse the bubbles off and teeth-clenched, hand over sliced bananas. Thrust them on the bland bowl, add flower seasons, and tap on.
He repeats humdrum. I tilt my hair on the edge.
I pull two cartoon cups, fixate the device, and let them fill.
I smile, gathering the itchy hair back on top. Rin runs vividly. The rain commences falling, I emulate a relief sigh. That's a sheepish lie.
Ten minutes after randomly encountering, a large-frame, tall, strict enters. The shivering brown gate slams back sturdy.
He coughs, hauntedly smirking. A tuxedo official directs to me. My heart starts to errorly race.
I speak first. The man lifts his hand. We give hands respectively.
"Hello! I am here for the order!"
"Can you precise?"
I slowly utter, pricking a lousy look at him.
I take on a letter and read aloud:
" Three assets of table clothes, two sets of italic kerchieves, six samples of wedding cake?"
He nods surely. I surly glance back at the kitchen.
"Wait for a second!"
"Have your time!" my quirky tiptoe run plunges the mess.
"Is the order ready?"
Ayla is patrolling around legs-adrift and tired. She howls:
Guys are carrying the pretty boxes outdoors. I follow them severely seriously.
"Where do you want to put them?"
The steel middle-aged man grunts:
"In the black car in front!"
I lower. Helpful, I grab the remaining packets of sets and chase them.
Suddenly I trip humbly:
Gently he holds me back and aids politely. Soon I blush reserved. He gets the sets before I turn on fire.
He says, grazing. I shyly bind a courteous greet.
A pat on my shoulders extinguishes the flame. Rin the jock scares the shit. I break into swear, almost lopping up.
He jokes, hitting with a gentle tray splash.
"An exclusive boy wants you, table 7!"
I pop up fearful, embarking a hand to my tummy. He giggles, I chill.
"Truly! He said I want to order from the girl!"
He sinks his nails in my pat. I avoid, running to table 7. Timid, I heave the hell hair bank up and walk over straight. Coughing, I do alarm him.
He turns backward and peruses my writhe.
I rhyme. He frowns happily.
He says. I gag low.
"Do you want to order?"
"Are we classmates?"
Cuts off. I rethink. Lightweight, I startle. My backbone warps.
"I don't quite remember you?!"
I grimace uneasy. He points laughable.
I writhe, trying all the way to deem about 100 students, same ambiance, speaking or answering.
"You with Miss.Bell?"
He responds, always wincing.
I avoid asking more. He seasons the chat with a couple more quizzes. I quizzically stammer timid.
"You work here!"
"Yes! Until the lectures start in April!"
"You are taking it part-time?"
He seriously digs the shit out of my state. I get crumpled and refuse to reply, though that's clear.
"Are you ordering?"
The sound sounds like ordeal-fully commanding, although I had a shit replying.
He tucks hands in pockets and whirs:
"A beer will do!"
He squints, extracting his hand to mine. Immediately I recoil afraid.
"My name is Erik!"
"Nice to meet you, Erik!"
I nicely don't tell my name, barely squeezing the palms, sweaty and emotionful. Uptight I collect my flash-lips and skip gallop-like.
Every time I yank those hair strands, they get worse. Issued aside shrugged shoulders, I paw the fucking long pint and fill it with creamy beer.
"You saw a ghost?"
Rin scrubs it in maniacally, I scum his face with liquid remains of beer in my tips. Then he pulls a tongue, offensively teehee.
I confirmed, titter with a lingering tune on the upper lip.
The beer pint tints crashing unnoticeably, I firmly put it on table 7.
He waits for me with a grain simper. I go the tongue across the jawline, scraping teeth's smalt. Shit, all twittery meddle has stuck on me, I don't know how to quite introduce myself.
"My NAME is Luna!"
I respond lightly. The chiseled jaw gregariously wrinkles.
He folds his hands on his hips. First appearance: fucking good, his modest stare so tiny and important. Brown coffee eyes are effective, his hair irregular is pretty attractive...
Well for now...
"I feel great for knowing you!" he adds, quivers.
The guts are impressive, the paunchy roar inside my stomach is unhearable for fortune.
I stretch my visage align, and see Rin chortling like a jackass. The hue of shame and vengeance is mixing.
"I'll see you around!"
I finish, on direct leave out. He steeply eyes me. Like an ugly ogle, I MUST SAY.
I enjoy the final hours of this terrific day, my heart is throbbing large, and my pinning eyelids are blowing oxytocin.
It goes around 17:45, when it's completely dark, raining, and felt less burden, pickle clients. Rather than transit, I sit down at the window, eat a small oreo slice.
Rin has gone earlier. The newly comer, Lea is serving for the rest of the night.
She looks temptress and an enormously high-heel curse.
I gruffly pout eying on her.
Daniel has also gone, replacing Gary, a horse-man, age 32, unluckily prying on married ladies and debauchee.