Lips Like Coffee

cup: 5

Pen

I watched as she slumped forward on the couch, with her head rested on her knees. Norma groaned as she hung her arms at her side, and I couldn't help but chuckle at her misfortune. This was her second job interview this week, and no one wanted to hire her. A couple of factors weighed in on that: the fact that she had absolutely no work experience, she had a problem with being told what to do, and she didn't have skills outside of military training. Other than that, she had a wonderful personality and they would keep her application on file.

"When they ask, 'What are your special skills,' what do you say," I chuckled, sitting down next to her with my coffee mug.

"That I can disassemble and reassemble a gun in less than a minute," she answered, still with her forehead on her knees.

This made me laugh harder, and I slapped my knee as I did so. She rolled her head to the side to glare at me, but I kept laughing. When she placed her hand on my good wrist, I stopped and cleared my throat. I got my cast off in a week, I didn't need another one for another three weeks.

"I'm sorry, but we talked about his," I said, a smile still on my face as I looked at her.

"I know, but I forget all of that when I'm there," she sighed, letting my wrist go.

She sunk deeper into herself, putting her head between her knees instead of on top. I furrowed my brow at this, and shifted to face her a bit more as crossed an ankle over my knee. We've practiced the process of going through an interview plenty of times, I didn't understand how she could just forget it. There had to be something that made her mention that specific skill.

As far as I knew, her memory was impeccable and she rarely forgot things. We went grocery shopping together the week before, and she remembered the entire list. Half the things on the list, I had forgotten were on it myself and I had it in my hand. So it couldn't have been that she had just somehow forgotten it all.

"What exactly happened at the interviews," I asked, and she seemed to fold more into herself as she sighed.

"Those men stared at me, like they wanted me for dinner," she grumbled as if she didn't want me to hear her.

My eyes widened at this, and I felt a bit disgusted by it. She was only nineteen, and they were undressing her with their eyes.

"Men are disgusting creatures," I said, eyes trained on her slumped body. "Never let anyone tell you differently."

"Not all men," she replied, and I shook my head.

"All men, every single one -even the so called good men. Because good men, are just men with dirty little secrets."

Norma sat up to smile at me, and shook her head back at me. She asked who told me such a thing, and I shrugged as I took a sip from my mug. My father was my answer, as well a being a man myself. Being a man means you get to know what goes on in another man's head, just as easily as you know your own. All men think the same.

"So are you a bad man, or a good man with dirty secrets?"

The slight raise of her eyebrow made me smile, and I tapped the tip of her nose.

"You'll just have to figure that out yourself."

We laughed together, and Norma leaned against me as she did so. It took some time, but we've​ gotten comfortable with each other. At that point, I could say that we were something like friends. There were still some awkward moments, and there were a lot of things we still didn't know about each other. But we've made progress.