Dear Universe, Up Yours!

Chapter 11

Present

I guess some random person took the bottle of beer from me as I slept, which explains why I didn't see it now. I leaned over the mattress I once slept on, and smelled the lonely yellow spot, just to clarify what it was. Nope- gross, that's piss alright.

I was glad I wasn't drunk before I met up with the random boy on the swings. It's funny how conversations with people younger than you, especially small kids, can somehow talk sense in you. Not directly, but indirectly. They're young, so they still have more things to learn about. But that's the key, the naïvety, and ignorance, that makes you think. To elaborate, the small things the kid said about me being lucky really had me contemplate the act of taking things for granted. It's just very funny how something so simple said from someone so young, in a witty matter, can make a person really think.

Which leads me to believe that I shouldn't have taken the moments I had with Gerard, for granted. I'm probably never going to see him again, so I just feel utter regret. Though the other part of me knows that abandoning him was for the best.

...

Right?

I left the mattress store, feeling famished; my stomach growled every once in a short while, and I felt complete emptiness in my gut. Luckily, I noticed there was a small bakery around the corner, and I did have money on me, so that would work out.

I silently walked inside of the building, the very faint noises of my footsteps on the hard floor, and immediately smelled cakes and cinnamon. It was a pretty cozy and warm place; cute, small drawings alongside the specials on the chalkboard easels.

I headed over to the counter and looked downward at all the food and titles in the display case. After enough browsing, I put my head up from below and looked up at the guy at the front, about to order my food.

"Can I get, um, a blueberry scone and one cinnamon roll?" I asked, lightly drumming on the counter out of short boredom.

"Yep, and will that be all for today?" I nodded in response. "Okay, so just a blueberry scone and cinnamon roll?" he clarified.

"Yep," I replied, and he went across the room, dodging his co-workers who were getting pastries for their customers, in a slick manner, and grabbed a paper bag and a napkin, as well as plastic containers. He grabbed the scone from the glass display case in the counter below and gripped it with a napkin, and placed it in a plastic container. He did the same as well with the cinnamon roll, and put them inside the paper bag, rolling the top closed after adding a few of some small, brown napkins and plastic utensils. He reached his way over to me and placed the bag on top of the counter in front of me.

"Your total is three thirty-five," he said, opening the cash register and grinning.

I took out my money, grabbing four $1's, handing it to him. He gave me my change in return, and I grabbed the bag, hearing a "have a good day" from him as I turned around to find a table.

I sat down on a single, small round table, and took out the cinnamon roll from the bag, opening up the plastic containers and taking out the plastic fork and knife. I stabbed my fork into it, slicing out a small piece with the plastic knife, and put it in my mouth. Fuck, this was so good. It's been a long time since I had sweet pastries like these.

My eyes averted to the miniature television on top of the counter, after the increase in its volume. The news was playing.

There was a header at the bottom, stating, "MALE KILLED BY TWO UNKNOWN SUSPECTS IN ROADSIDE MOTEL."

There was footage in the background of two people wandering around in the motel lobby, opening drawers, going out the doors, and I immediately knew who they were.