Behind The Glass Wall (on hold)

prologue

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The delivery guy made his way to the grand house, occasionally kicking a pebble with his worn out shoes, and cursing at a stupid pop song that stuck in his head like a mantra.

Who could believe in those lyrics anyways?  He muttered, pushing the unruly auburn strands from his eyes, and adjusting his cap.

Lyrics about love, fame, money and dancing under the stars. Certainly not him, balancing between his three part-time jobs and community college courses after his family cut him off. He barely managed to pay his rent even with two roommates.

The sickeningly sweet scent of the pink roses in his hands made him hate his life even more, but he couldn't hold it at arm's length to chase the smell, the bouquet named "Pink Dream" was the shop's most expensive item.

It was undeniable how beautiful it was, its perfection contrasting with his callused hands caused by his previous job at a construction site. The shades of pink made him miss a time when his thoughts would drift to how to mix paint to create such colors, sketch an image in his mind before his brush even touched the canvas, and hope that maybe it would be the masterpiece that would give him the recognition he deserved.

He was too wrapped up in his self pity that he tripped, almost falling because of those same pebbles he was kicking before.

That was when he seized the view the enormous glass wall offered. His hands tightened around the bouquet of roses.

A majestic chandelier hung over a dining table, illuminating three sitting figures in tall chairs like those of royalty.

As if beaconed by the luxury of it all, the delivery guy inched closer until he was a few feet away from the glass.

His gaze first went to the man sitting at the head of the table, his broad shoulders accentuated in his shiny grey suit, his strong jaw flexing and unflexing as he chewed. His brows were furrowed even when his face seemed relaxed, and the delivery guy was intimidated even from where he stood.

Next to him, was a woman that looked more like a carved status than a human being, as pale as porcelain, all sharp angles, cutting cheekbones and stiff posture. Except for her hair, the thick waves shone under the golden light like silk, and it seemed as if a breeze was constantly blowing through them. Although, he was sure the inside was as warm as those dishes sitting in front of the family.

His eyes continued his somewhat creepy inspection of them, falling on a teenage girl that looked mostly like her father with her tanned skin and dark -almost black- hair. It was all he could do not to gape at how beautiful she was. She looked like the kind of people who take over the world, who never question themselves, and whose confidence never faltered. She looked like the girls that belong on magazines and billboards, that he only look at from a distance, behind a glass wall.

These were no ordinary people. They were airbrushed with a layer of sheen that made them seem straight out of a commercial, or a movie, unfit for the awfully dim reality.

He could only guess the glass wall was reflective from inside, because none of these people could've missed his mundane big silhouette intruding in their dining room.

It took him several moments to be able to ring the bell, but when he did, he was expecting a servant not Nella Torres herself to open the door. Her shiny eyes, took the bouquet in, dimmed slightly then looked at him. A ridiculous voice inside of him was screaming for him to do something that would leave a good impression on the Instagram star his roommates were obsessed with. That everyone was obsessed with.

The blood rushed to his freckled cheeks and he wished the lights of the porch weren't so bright, because the absolutely stunning girl smiled discreetly, and extended her hands shyly towards the bouquet. And the whole next five minutes passed in a dream-like haze until the door was closing and he was retreating back.

He couldn't reconcile his idea of the famous girl and the way she behaved earlier, like she wasn't sure what to do with attention despite living under the spotlight. He realized with a jolt that he'd just seen the entire Torres family through that glass. The family his mother's been almost worshiping since he could remember.

He looked back to the huge square of light, and saw the bouquet he took such particular care to deliver, the bouquet that cost more than he sees on his bank account even after a good month, was thrown by Nella on the table with so much force it made the carefully arranged flowers scatter, some of them falling to the ground. She sat back in her chair resuming dinner with her parents who didn't even move a muscle.

The delivery boy then decided that he hated these rich shiny people as much as he envied them.

He climbed his motorcycle, then disappeared into the darkness of the night, fitting in perfectly.

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