Dear May | Peter Parker

- 1 -

- November -

Just do it, man. This isn't that hard.

I hear these words ringing in my head, and every part of me wants to believe them, but I can't. As I stand outside the door to "The Nook" I notice that the window decal is slightly chipped and there's a paper taped to the inside that shows their updated hours. On the sidewalk there's a ladybug slowly headed south along the wall. Perhaps it's on it's way home from a long day of work, or maybe it's on the way to that flower shop down the block to find something to feed to it's family. Ridiculous as these thoughts are, they make for a decent distraction. Unfortunately, the longer I stand in front of this door the more strange I look to the people passing by, and that thought only makes the sinking feeling in my stomach plunge deeper. 

Just do it.

With a deep breath and a rush of blood through my body that nearly makes me stumble, I raise my hand to the door handle and pull. The door doesn't budge. I yank a little harder, but still nothing. My eyes shift down to my hand, or rather the black sticker on the glass. "Push."

Idiot.

I cringe, but nonetheless I push. As the door swings open a bell above my head sounds a sweet chime, and as soon as my eyes raise to the counter in the middle of the shop my ears are met with another sound, that which I've been longing to hear for months.

"Hey there! Welcome in!"

The two simple steps that I took into the shop cement their permanence as my feet now feel nailed to the floor. Here I am, and there she is. She looks the same as when I last saw her. Her shoulder length brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail and her green eyes greet me with the same bright-eyed optimism I had fallen in love with so long ago. I couldn't help but stare in amazement at that ever so slightly crooked smile of hers, one of the things I missed the most. Of course, I shouldn't have expected her to have changed too much. After all, it's only been seven months; seven months since she, along with the rest of the world, forgot that Peter Parker ever existed. 

"Is there anything I can get for you?" she asked cautiously. Suddenly I'm snapped out of my trance and I see that I must look insane. 

"Uh, yeah," I finally spit out. My legs manage to carry me to the counter, but I can barely focus on the menu. I have a list of options before me, but hardly the presence of mind to comprehend them. "Surprise me."

"You got it."

I stare blankly at her as she punches some numbers into the archaic cash register between us. On her nametag she's written her name neatly in cursive: "Danielle," with a tiny heart above the "i." Her brow furrows as she starts to jam the buttons more aggressively.

"Sorry, this stupid thing is on it's last leg. That'll be $4.67," she smiles, though not without showing just a bit of her frustration with the fossil before her. I find myself cracking the slightest smile as well as I dig through my pockets, finally producing six dollars and some loose change.

"Keep the change."

"Thank you! If you take a seat I'll have it right out."

Before I can say anything else she turns around to start making my drink. As if watching her move after so long wasn't captivating enough, the swing of her ponytail called my attention to the dark green scrunchie she wore. My heart leapt in my chest for a moment, only to sink back down just as soon. She couldn't possibly remember that I was the one who bought it for her. Of course, that means she also doesn't remember that I bought it for her because I snapped her last hair tie trying to shoot Ned during class.