One shots

Volverte a ver

"Our lives may not have fit together, but ohh did our souls know how to dance..."- K. Towne Jr.

The sound of music, laughing and cheering woke her up. Stretching she wanted to grumble. Last day of Carnival and the streets were already alive in downtown Santo Domingo. Home. Looking at the time seeing she had minutes until her shift she ran out of bed. The diner cafe could survive her being a little late today. Running up to the terrace she watched the ongoing parade, the first of many for today. Bright colours were all she could see. Dancers, floats and drummers all in the distance. The sensual invent of women's hips to the music as they flaunted what they were given. The ongoing appreciators that swarmed the streets. Confetti in every colour of the rainbow everywhere, the streets were painted. And you could still make out the late night party animals turning in to start up again later this evening.

"Feliz cumpleaños Nicoll," she muttered to herself.

Heading back in, she rushed to ready herself for the busy day ahead. Walking through downtown and the crowd would be stress to get to the heart of the city from where she was. Looking around the small apartment she had come to love over the past two years, she thought about her decision to stay put after her Abuela Aury passed away. Kissing the cross her cross that she always wore, she resumed getting ready. Easy going makeup with cherry lips. Her thick eyebrows stood out against her skin as she wiggled them in the mirror. Her wispy black lashes clashed with her heterochromic eyes. Her left sea green eyes still held russet flecks, which was the whole colour of her other eye. Smiling happy with her look, the rosiness of her cheeks she smacked her lips once more for good measure. Throwing on last minute pieces together bangles, she grabbed her bag, hoops and phone.

Juggling the stuff in her hands she locked the door. Running down the steps, two at a time she through her ash brown hair into a makeshift bun, barely containing the mass of waist length hair. Soft curls still managed to escape framing her face.

"Buenos días, mi hermosa Imelda!"

She screamed running past her grandmothers old friend, as she playfully hit her with her scarf. Leaving a kiss on the small woman's cheek she ran. She knew she would come for her if she got there before her. Giggling like a school girl, she said her good morning at the early birds who were up setting shop. All the people who were her knew found familia who she had come to love. Undoing the scarf around her bag she wrapped it around her head hoping it would help hold some back. Taking her gold hoops she put them on finish her look.

Walking down towards the city she sand along to the music if carnival, the best way to spend a birthday.

Sergio loved coming home. Living in the upper city area he was happy to be able to at least catch the last day of carnival. He looked around the family home, his brother Tiago just emerging out his room and his mama was cooking up a storm in the kitchen before his abuela got here later in the afternoon. Aiden was still nowhere to be seen after willingly  tagging along for the annual family vacation. Walking out to the balcony he could see the morning parades starting up. The carefree atmosphere and warmth that he only felt when home.

Grabbing his phone and keys, making sure he has his wallet, he sighed.

"Mama I'm going out."

Throwing his shoes on, he didn't wait for much of a reply walking out. There was one place he knew his feet would carry him to unconsciously. And he couldn't help but wonder if she would be there today.

Mama Imelda's cafe sat on the corner of the Main Street carnival passes through. It was small, always hot and extremely packed. It was also where she earned just enough to live paycheque to paycheque. Yet she loved it. The dim lighting along with the music set against the pale yellow walls set a real ambience of warmth. True to her what her abuela always said about having a drink no matter the time a bar took up the right corner. Old wooden cabinets that could give you serious splinters held all types of poison of choice. The barstool old and crumbly held thousands of stories. Mismatched mosaic tiles made up the bar table. An old jukebox played the oldest music, and tables of weathered wood scattered the places leading out.