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“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.” I turned around without another word and dashed down the hallway, disappearing in to the staircase. By the time the heavy iron door clanged shut, I was already two flights down and nearing the exit.
I’d made a huge mistake.
I sat alone at a coffee shop, drinking water because I didn’t have enough money to buy coffee. Five dollars for a small, I mean tall, coffee though? When did being Rockefeller become a prerequisite for ordering coffee?
I really wanted coffee, but I had to settle for water. At least the cool liquid was refreshing. I was tired from the bus ride, having only slept a few hours total in the past couple of days. It seemed like dreams were mixing with reality, and it was becoming harder and harder to control my thoughts. Memories were slipping past my usual defenses.
“What is that?”
“It’s a backpack.”
“I know what it is. Why do you have it?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Could you not cuss at me please?”
“Sorry… Just, I got word that you were leaving but I didn’t believe it. I didn’t believe you would just leave like this.”
“What did you think was going to happen?”
“Hey? Excuse me, hey?”
I blinked lazily, my mind caught in the past. A hand waved hurriedly in my face, trying to get my attention. I blinked some more, willing my thoughts to stay in the present, and followed the hand to its owner: a woman with ink black hair, macchiato skin, and freckles dusting the shoulders that peeked out from her off-the-shoulder shirt.
“I apologize,” I said, voice sluggish. “What do you need?”
“Did you see who took my bag?” The woman asked, eyes darting furiously around the shop.
“What?” I wasn’t sure I’d heard her properly.
“Over there,” She pointed to an empty couch, eyes still trained on me. The couch was the kind where people were supposed to lounge, drink coffee, and compose the next great American novel. “I left my bag there and now it’s gone. I was wondering if you saw someone take it. It must have happened in the last five minutes while I was in the bathroom.”
I shook my head. “Sorry, no. I was kinda lost in thought.” Lost in memories, more like. No matter how far I went, I still couldn’t escape my memories.
“Well that’s just fuckin’ great ain’t it?” The woman huffed a sigh and turned her attention back to the couch.
“I’m sorry,” I offered meekly.
“It’s not your fault,” the woman said, frowning. “I mean I’m the idiot who left her bag alone. Welcome to California, right?” She put her hands on her hips, frowning sorely at the empty spot on the couch.
“You’re new to California?” I set down my waning water and watched the woman. She looked young, probably around my age. She had big brown eyes and one arm of her coffee-colored skin was covered in colorful, floral tattoos.
She reminded me of a Spanish painting, the kind done on mosaic tiles. You know the kind, women with long eyelashes and big smiles wore red flowers in their hair and were dressed turquoise. I imagined that’s what she looked like when her bag hadn’t just been stolen.
“Yeah,” The painting continued. “I packed up my shit, said goodbye to my asshole boyfriend, and drove to the Sunshine State.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s Florida.”
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to have to go back now. Back to stupid, bum-fuck-nowhere, Louisiana. That backpack had all my cash, my I.D., and my last snickers bar.”
“That sucks.” I watched her through tired eyes, wish
ing I could offer her more than my sympathy. Sympathy was all I had to my name right now, though.
“Right?” She placed her hands on her hips. “I’m fucking hungry.”
