Running Into Figure Six

As soon as I was done writing, it was already late in the afternoon and i had not had lunch.

I wished the other woman I had tried making friends with, would have at least talked to me. Then, maybe we would have gone shopping together for some foodstuff and pads and curtains.

I had nothing to eat at home except a bag of chips and a loaf of bread that was already starting to harden. I wished I could just go to work and help for a few hours, and then I’d get free lunch, and not be so bored, but Wills said to stay at home and get hobbies.

I was going to pick up some chow later, for dinner or I’d really start to starve, again.

I sat on my bed, glancing through what I had written, and smiled to myself. The bag of chips lay on my thighs as I nonchalantly chowed away my time. I should go shopping when I had the time now, maybe try finding my way around here on my own.

I sure could not get lost. Here is a big place where commercial taxis plowed everywhere but I was held back by something I could not even place my hand on. I’m not so much of a social person, but i’m not one to be so socially awkward that I couldn’t go get stuff that I need.

Maybe it was because my neighbour was yet to be back.

Maybe I did not believe at all in my cooking. So much that I’d rather not buy foodstuff and have someone who’s good at it, buy it and cook it for me while I watched, and maybe learnt how to be better.

Twenty minutes and a empty bag of chips later, I decided to take an aimless walk down the street. No, not particularly aimless- I had a mission.

There was a bar per restaurant downtown, and their fuzzy drinks and wines looked nice. I never tried them but they must taste as nice as they looked in their adverts, not? I didn’t know if their food was nice too.

I had to really taste it to know, not?

I was only going to try a drink, maybe just coffee or soda, and probably some cookies, with a bit of my salary. Then, maybe I’d find someone to talk to in the bar, and I wouldn’t be bored to death.

Someone who was friendly or liked to cook, like Rooney, or someone who loved shopping and shopped all the time.

I took my time preparing myself, looking my very best. It was to let time pass quickly and not because I was trying to impress anyone.

Or maybe I was

I even dabbed some powder on, and carefully combed my wavy hair.

My gel bottle was already empty, so i just combed it, applied my hair cream which was starting to finish too, and then let all the hair loose.

I made a mental note to add a blow dryer, hair gel, and cream to the list of the things I would buy, if I had a chance to shop with someone.

Before dressing my hair, I slipped on a blue jean gown that was already two sizes too small for me, but I cared less. I had no stomach to hide, so there was no shame in wearing something so tight.

Plus I’m no floozie, but you really have to give that to me- my booty was really popping in that blue jean gown, like always.

Maybe I should consider enrolling in a gym, like Gerald did, so that I would keep this booty forever. I would kill to still look like this at forty, fifty and even sixty.

When I finally looked in the mirror, I was very pleased. I slipped on my straplike leather bag and my sandals and quietly locked my door behind me, a smile still plastered on my face.

“Strap on a pair, Clarissa ” I encouraged myself, tucked in my tummy and breathed out twice. “You look gorgeous” I mumbled to myself.

“It’s just a drink. Not a date. Stop smiling sheepishly like you wanna go suck a guy’s balls somewhere” I said again, conpletely killing my smile.

I took a brisk walk around the quarters, searching for a place that might be possible for growing plants. There was none. The steps to the roof looked like it had some soil though, but I would have to check later.

A fun day out with my round-butt comes first. I decided to take a painstaking look around Rooney’s apartment before jumping onto the road.

For the umpteenth time since he’s disappeared, I’ve found myself looking around for him and literally staying by my window and waiting for him to drive into his parking lot, like a miracle. If trouble came to me, don’t ask around- I must have brought it upon myself.

I tried to imagine where he might be, but my mind was usually blank thinking about him. I knew nothing about him other than he was a really tall, buff dude who sounded unbelievably sexy.Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

No, I mean nice. Sexy is too much to qualify a stranger. All i remembered about him was his heavenly smell of strawberries, mint and hot chocolate, and his mouthwatering homemade chicken salad, sandwich, ham and cheese and pancakes.

I jumped into his balcony and walked up to his front door. It appeared that no one was in because it was still tightly secured. I rounded his apartment and stopped when I reached his kitchen window.

Oh my! Margarine… I could catch the lingering smell of margarine somewhere on the sill. I could smell strawberries too. Milk too. Full- cream, fresh milk.

I could literally drown in that aroma.

Cooking must have been the last thing he did before leaving, four days ago.

For some reason, I wanted to remain there and breathe in the air, because it brought back my smile. I brought out my phone to check what the time said. It was almost 4pm.

I decided to stay there until 4pm hoping that Rooney would not come home and find me sneaking around like that, because even though he had always been nice, I could not tell if he had a temper worse than Gerald’s, but i remained there, also hoping that he’d find me there.

But it seemed the universe had other plans for me. Plan that did not include having some fun time in a bar downtown. Or breathing in foody air. My phone rang and I jerked out of my aromatic attachment.

It was the last person I wanted to talk to. I knew what she would first ask me, and I was not ready to talk to her about it.

But I answered the call anyways. Because if I didn’t, I would have to get my ass ready for a total of twenty annoying texts, about how rude of a child I was, and how Jessie never does that to her own mother.

“Clarissa, did you get your first salary yet?” Like who starts a call asking about their kid about their first salary? My mom does.

“Yes, I did”

“Oh, that’s lovely”, she squealed, “Congratulations” It was so watery that my mouth went too dry to mutter a thank you back.

“Jessie told me you were going to shop for a few essentials, and I figured you have your salary ready. Who’s shopping with you?”

Like she already concluded I could never have any savings.

“My fat ass” I said, trying so hard not to catch a flight to California immediately, to punch Jessie in the face for telling on me.

My hands started forming into fists and I badly wanted to punch something.

Anything at all.

So I hit Rooney’s railings as hard as i could. Twice. It hurt like hell but I refused to feel the pain. I might as well drive to California right then.

“Are you joking me? You have no friends to go with you?” She yelled, sounding annoyingly British, and failing to catch my humour.

I started to walk towards the street, preparing to hang up on her if she tried ruining my mood. I was almost at the verge of doing it and not regretting it for the se .

“Mom, i don’t think there’s anything wrong in shopping alone” I whined, trying so hard to be as quiet and polite as possible. I should have lied that I have friends already.

“There’s nothing wrong in shopping with friends too. I bet you have not made any yet, not?” I could hear her scoff and tug at the air, as if demonstrating the nonexistence of my social circle. “Where are you? Not at work?”