Tied Fate • ✓

1

Tick tock, tick tock.

Every second felt like a waste. Precious time slipping away, through the cracks in her fingers. She was missing out on every new opportunity — meeting someone new, saying something new, trying a new drink. She was missing out on everything.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

Regina stared at the warm drink in her hand, not able to look any higher. Not able to look at the empty seat across from her without breaking into sobs. Where was Jandro? He promised her he would be here. He promised ... then again, when had Jandro ever kept his promise? He'd bailed on their two-year anniversary, cancelled plans for her birthday, missed at least two dinner dates after; all because of his stupid job overseas.

He was the bass player in the damned band Hallowed Cities. It was a cursed job.

Not bothering to fight the painful sigh that rose in her throat, Regina shifted in her seat and decided to wait for half a minute longer. Thirty seconds. She waited, one leg crossed over the other, clutching her drink between two hands.

Thirty seconds passed.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

He didn't show up.

Something struck Regina's core. She felt the swell of something wet and painful behind her eyes. Suddenly, she couldn't control herself.

No. Her hand raised to her mouth, a life-threatening clamp on her ragged breaths. Her eyes glazed over. Not here. Not here. Wait. At home. Just, go home.

Go home.

As steadily as she could, she rose from her seat. Flattened her sweatshirt against her torso. It was her favourite, soft grey, from Abercrombie and Fitch. She had deliberately worn the knee-high black boots (that Jandro loved) to match. Rightfully so, too: it was the middle of Autumn; but, in her heart it felt like a frostbitten winter. Coming from the roots of her stomach, she felt a spiral of shame, hurt, disappointment, and a last flare of rage.

She was done.

She was done waiting for him. Waiting, always waiting, on his every heed and command. She was done clinging to her pathetic hopes that he would one day give up his job — his precious job — for her. It wasn't going to happen.

Regina, you're an idiot.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, careful not to tremble, she bent down and picked up her half-full mug of coffee. It was half-full, half-cold, half-empty. Like her heart.

She began walking to the counter, refusing to meet the gazes of any of the strangers that casted curious looks her way.

She was almost at the counter when somebody turned roughly around, his face irritably facing over his shoulder and completely unaware of Regina behind him.

He crashed full-frontal into her, the blow of him knocking her backwards with a gasp. Her coffee had spilled all over her Abercrombie sweatshirt, seeping right through, and right through the thin long-sleeve she had beneath. The warm drink touched her skin.

The man staggered slightly back, eyes wide, "Holy —"

Regina gasped again. Her chest heaved with shaken breaths. She stared at her ruined shirt, as a dark stain invaded most of the front. It didn't look like it was going to come off.

This was her favourite sweatshirt.

"F*ck. Are you kidding me?" the man muttered. His eyes were pinched irritably shut. "Watch where you're going next time."