2 Lives

One

I was confused. "Excuse me? What do you mean?" His eyes darted around the store, making sure it was empty. "Are you happy with your life?" He probed me. "Wh-what?" I stammered, unsure. "Are. You. Happy. With your life?" He repeated again, carefully. "Well," I began, "I have a job, a home, friends and family," "But are you living the way you want?" He cut me off. He stared into my eyes intensely. "I know you aren't." He continued. "You are bored, aren't you? You wish life hadn't turned out like this, you wished you had another life. I could tell. I can help."

"How?" I cried out. My mind was whirling. It was like he could see right into me. He looked at me carefully, and was quiet for a moment before bending down behind the table, rooting around for a bit, and standing up again. He extended his hand out, revealing about a dozen small pills. "You can have your perfect life," he said, "with Dream Pills".

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Hi, can I help you with anything?"

Big, bright (fake) smile plastered on my face. Check. Ridiculously high pitched, annoying voice. Check. Annoyed customers glaring at me, quickly shaking their head, and walking away from me. Check. "Alright, let me know if you need anything!" I call out to the girls who aren't listening.

I heave a sigh and surreptitiously darted a quick glance at my watch. Only 40 minutes until closing time. I can survive until then.

I walk out of the mall into the chilly parking lot. I spot my boyfriend Ben's red Toyota and quickly scurry into the warm car. "Hi" I greeted him, and gave a tired smile. He smiled back. "Hey, Blairie. How was your day?"

As we drove towards my apartment, we continued to make small talk. It was a slow day at the bank, where he worked. Nothing uneventful happened at LA Fashion, the clothing store where I worked. Our small talk gradually descended into an awkward silence.
We always run out of things to say to each other.

I mean, Ben wasn't a bad guy. I've known him since high school. He was the only guy willing to date "that weird girl who likes to sew". He was fine with me not being able to hang out with him very often because I had to "finish up a design" or something, and in turn, I put up with his boring personality. Ok, that sounded a bit mean... He wasn't exactly 'boring' but it didn't seem like he had any passions. Ben never got excited over anything, didn't seem to have a life goal and treated everything with a lukewarm interest. Including me.

Whatever. We've been together since we were seventeen until now , 23, and we're good. We haven't had many fights, we know each others family, and he willingly gives me a ride to and from work, since the bank he works at is only 5 minutes away.

He ran his fingers through his long dirty blond hair. "By the way, my parents invited us over for dinner on Thursday. I'll pick you up then". I stifled a groan and nodded. His parents never liked me, I could tell. Looking at me with their disapproving eyes, wondering why on earth I don't just get a office job instead of working at a store in the mall. They do have a point though. But I'm only working there in the hopes of being promoted to a designer, like my flaky boss Marie had promised. I'm still waiting.

We pull up into my apartment's driveway. "See you tomorrow," Ben said cheerfully, and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. He drove away and I trudged into the building. I opened the door into my apartment and walked in. My apartment was relatively new so I hadn't had time to decorate it yet. The walls were white and bare except for a photo of me and Ben at prom.

I walked into the bathroom and stared at my reflection. I yanked out my ponytail and my straight, dark brown hair fell down my shoulders. I studied my reflection - my hazel eyes and chapped (bad, I know) lips. I quickly redid my eyeliner and lipstick and went out. I stared at my apartment. It was small, but the lack of furniture made it look big and empty. The only things visible was my sewing machine, perched on a scratched, old wooden table. A roll of denim sat at the side. I was planning to make jeans. The light brown wooden floor of the apartment was dusty and old. I could really use a nice rug.