Skinny Love

five o'clock a.m.

[a little more detail added toward the end&dialogue added in the middle]

[a phone call added toward the end]

"I make insomnia look professional. Make your tossing and turning look like afternoon hiccups. [...] And apparently, we’re all going to die. Because while the girl to my left worries that the satellite will hit her, the woman to my right worries that it will hit a nuclear power plant and then we’re all fucked."

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CATALINO FERRO, ANXIETY GROUP [VIDEO ON SIDE]

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11:52 P.M.

I walked in to my house smiling. I barely noticed how late it was.

I stared at the red carnation sitting in my hand. Just like the unsteady and tethered relationship that Adam and I somehow uncovered, it wasn't perfect. A couple of the leaves were dying and the bottom of the stem was turning a dark and ugly color. It was ironic how meticulous I was being to a simple flower, that frankly, I was allergic to. 

My mother was already asleep (thank god) when I came home, and I found her passed out on the couch, the news on TV being the only thing illuminating the house. Turning it off, I stared at my mother's sleeping face for a moment before hesitantly grabbing the sofa shawl and draping it over her body. 

The house was quiet, and every movement I made echoed through the walls and vents of our decent home. 

I headed upstairs to my bedroom when I heard the first raindrops fall from the sky. By the time I had changed into pajamas, and had sat on my  bed, the light drizzle turned into a full on thunderstorm. Lightning flashed and I winced at the sight. Despite the exhaustion my body was feeling, my mind refused to calm down. It was filled with thoughts and memories and everything in between.

After about twenty minutes and finally realizing that I wasn't going to sleep anytime soon, I walked back downstairs and pulled on shoes and my hands found its way to Adam's sweatshirt, which I pulled over my body. Grabbing my phone and stuffing it down my bra, I didn't take an umbrella when I left the house once more.

Outside was loud and rowdy with people and the rain. It was Friday, and people were out having fun, or whatever. Although, at the moment, the only reason it was loud was because people were trying to avoid the rain.  

My first instinct was to go to the coffee shop. In fact, while this thought was going through my head, I was standing in front of it, surveying the boy and girl who just walked/ran in for shelter. There was already an elderly couple sitting in the seats right by the 'Employees Only' sign, and I watched them laugh and giggle like they didn't have a care in the world.

But it was too early. The shifts hadn't switched and I wasn't really in the mood to get an order from Aisha the Wannabe Hipster. Instead, I walked around the it, to the seven doors arranged in a straight line behind it; all in one single building. Out of all of them, I only recognized two.

The barber shop with the strange yet comforting old woman that never seemed to leave- and the building my group therapy took place. The rain seemed to pour harder still, each raindrop meshing in with another one, until it all sounded like one single sound. It was also making it harder for me to see. Teardrops were stuck to my lashes and blindly I ran into one of the doors. 

 I felt the chestnut door groan under my weight as I pushed it open to escape the rain. I knew I made a mistake when my sneakers touched linoleum instead of the carpeting in The Kareena Salon. 

"Miss Beau?" Crap. Rubbing some of the water in front of my eyes, I faced Mr. Singh with a sheepish look on my face. He looked wide awake, despite the late time and was reading a book- Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters, surprisingly enough- on the beanbag chair. "Did you come here to talk to me?"