The Ghost of Us

1.

"Tom! Tom! Get up you're going to be late!" Thomas cracked an eye open, the sound of his alarm was going off in the distance. "Thomas!"

"Okay! I'm up!" He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. His stomach ached and his head pounded from the inside of his skull. Maybe if he just closed his eyes for one more minute it would go away.

"Thomas!" He groaned internally, there was no escaping Teresa now. He slowly pulled himself up to sit on the edge of his bed. He tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes before he pulled himself to his feet. His bones ached and his joints protested as he walked across the room to throw some clothes on his thin frame.

"You know when you stand right in front of your bed the floor creaks right?" Teresa called as she was shifting through the cabinets for something to eat. "I know when you're up, Tom."

"You know, the details you know about my life are weird, T." He replied. He went to the fridge to refill his water and went to the couch to collect his backpack.

"We live together, you're saying you know nothing about me?" She feigned hurt as she pulled what looked like could be an expired granola bar from the cabinet. "I'll get groceries after work tonight." She mentioned, and Thomas reached to his pocket to pull out his wallet.

"Here's my contribution." He said, waving a crisp 13$ in his hand. "Sorry, all I have on me." He placed the bills on the counter and pulled his bag over his shoulders. He was beginning to wonder why he even carried a wallet anymore as he looked at the pitiful amount of money on the counter.

"I work tonight so don't wait up!" Thomas called as he walked out the front door and down the stairs of their apartment. He took a left on the sidewalk and headed off to the coffee shop down the street. He had a couple hours before his first class so he could fit in some time at work.

"Hey Bren." He greeted his friend behind the coffee bar. The line seemed to be extra long today, full of cranky college students and employees with poor time management.

"Hey Thomas, hurry up so we can get this line down." Quickly, he tied the apron around his waist and helped Brenda whip out coffees as quickly as they could. When the line was down to one or two people, Thomas grabbed a rag and began to wipe down the counters.

"So, how was this morning?" He asked as she set the final customer's cup on the counter.

"Your mystery man hasn't been in yet if that's what you're wondering." She smirked knowingly as she wiped out a glass with a clean rag. Thomas laughed and ruffled his hair.

"I don't have a mystery man." He replied. He bent below the counter for some extra milk as the door bell chimed signaling another person had entered the shop. Thomas enjoyed his work, Brenda was his friend and worked with his schedule. She let him come and go basically as he pleased. She was painfully aware of his financial situation and often let him take home all of the tips they made that day.

"Yeah, uh I'll have a coffee black." Thomas tried to stand up quickly, but managed to bang the back of his head on the counter that overhung the edge of the cooler. He rubbed the back of his head and stood up, managing to do so safely this time.

"Thomas, would you grab that?" Brenda asked, because of course this would be the mystery man. The beautiful blond that came in every morning and ordered the same thing.

"Sure." He replied, and grabbed a hot cup and poured the cup full before he set it in front of the mystery guy.

"So, your name is Thomas?" He said, his hand managed to cover the whole top of the coffee cup as he pulled it toward him. Thomas looked up to meet his gaze and felt his cheeks heat up.