Burning Red

This Big Wide City

The first phone call in years, coffee all alone, never looking back or down, spinning like a girl in a brand new dress, city life and apple pie, cold rain and daydreams

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─

Gracie was in her pajamas by 7pm that night. She'd ordered Chinese food before her shower, and had begun her meticulous Sunday night self-care regimen. The under-eye patches on her face soothed her puffy skin, irritated from weeks of stress and travelling. All she wanted to do was curl up in bed, put on Gilmore Girls, read some Guardians of the Galaxy fanfiction, and eat Chinese takeout.

She checked her watch— the food would be here any minute. She padded across the wooden floors of her bedroom, making her way over to the attached bathroom. She peeled off the eye masks and rinsed her face, letting her blonde hair out of a claw clip. Loose curls tumbled across her shoulders.

Though she had only moved in a couple days ago, her apartment was already shaping up to be the place of her dreams. Fairy lights and soft lamps decorated every room. Gracie refused to turn on harsh overhead lights. Lamps and natural light would have to do. Plush rugs and throw pillows decorated the living room and bedroom, and greenery both real and fake added a pop of color to the place's minimalistic palette.

Her dog Pumpkin, a brown staffy-lab mix, rubbed her nose against Gracie's fleece polar bear pajama-clad leg, wagging her tail eagerly. She'd rescued Pumpkin two Christmases ago, and she was truly the best dog anyone could ask for. Only three years old, she was perfectly behaved and didn't ever chew anything or make messes in the house.

Gracie went over to the coffee maker on the white marble counter and programmed it for early tomorrow morning. If she made coffee at home, she didn't have to worry about another spilling-her-caramel-macchiato-on-an-insanely-hot-and-overly-nice-guy incident. She wanted to bury her face in her hands when she thought back on the incident, which had occurred multiple times throughout the day. The secondhand embarrassment she gave herself was of epic proportions. She couldn't believe how nice he was about it. He appeared to have been dressed in some type of work uniform, leading her to believe he was on his way in to his job.

She imagined the conversation with his boss had something like this:

"Mr. Random-hot-guy, why are you late?"

"I sincerely apologize sir, but this girl spilled her caramel macchiato all over me. All the Adderall in the world wouldn't be able to fix the ADHD she appeared to have, sir."

"I now declare that everyone at this job hates her, she made one of my employees late. Do you agree with that, Mr. Random-hot-guy?"

"Yes sir!"

She laughed to herself, imagining this interaction. She was overthinking into oblivion. A random stranger on the street wouldn't be able to tell she struggled with ADHD everyday, no matter the dose of medication, nor would his boss declare that everyone in the workplace hate a random girl for spilling coffee on one of their coworkers. Nice guys always had jerkface bosses, at least in the romcoms. Real life? She wasn't so sure. Gracie couldn't say she'd ever dated or been with a particularly nice guy.

That was one of her many faults. Knocking on the door snapped her out of her thinking spiral, and Pumpkin's floppy triangular ears perked up. The dog had barked maybe twice since Gracie adopted her. Gracie looked out the peephole in the door and saw a food delivery girl. She opened the door and smiled.

"Hi! Is this for you?" the teenager asked, holding out a receipt.

"Yes, thank you! Bless your heart," she added, subconsciously slipping back into the southern dialect she'd grown up on.