That Summer In Lockley

don't talk so much

At uni, my friends and I would try to go somewhere every Saturday, whether it be as simple as the mall or as posh as a museum or an art gallery. Art galleries were especially my favourite. Our curious eyes glancing over the paintings, analyzing those we think were simple but were actually quite deep. The museum wasn't bad either, as history had a tendency to be interesting.

All those activities listed, managed to distract my mind from anything I lacked. It caused me to have peace of mind, something I tried to never compromise.

So, I decided that I would go to the mall today. There was nothing a little shopping couldn't fix.

And so I got ready, dressing in effortless simplicity. I wore baggy pants with a crop top instead of a cardigan. For my hair, all I did was rub in some products to enhance my curls and put in some edges. And within a few minutes, after accessorizing, I was ready.

I went thrifting first. As I entered the thrift shop my search began. I walked the first aisle and took a look at the clothes rack: crop tops, tank tops, blouses—still none grabbing my attention. Then, I saw a black t-shirt with graphic designs, priced at two dollars, Why not buy it? So I took it up, read the size and guessed that it would fit me without even trying it on. Life like this was what I loved, peaceful and without problems.

I roamed the other aisles and found paintbrushes, jars and containers. I even found some small canvases cut at half the normal price.

This was my paradise. And since it was my paradise I left there two hours later with a shopping bag filled to the brim. I went on my way to a snack bar on the same plaza, in search of some kind of liquid to quench my thirst. I joined a line, waited patiently and thought of what I would order.

"Can I get a chocolate smoothie with whipped cream?" I asked as I stared up at the menu.

The cashier touched the screen of his monitor and asked, "Is that all?"

"No, can I get some chocolate cookies with that? About four..."

"Okay, that will be six dollars."

I handed him the money and got my receipt. Then I moved to sit at one of those small tables, waiting to hear my number be called. I looked around as I sat patiently, watching those who passed and those who looked lost—all variations of people. Then, at one point my eyes became tired, so I took off my glasses.

"Number 351, your order is ready!"

I got up and took my smoothie and cookies from the counter. It felt awkward to eat by myself, but there were more important things happening in the world, eating alone was nothing.

As I put the straw in the cup and leaned to take a sip, someone sat down.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" The person asked, and with all the muscles in my body, I tried not to squint my eyes.

"Seriously, Aaron. What are you even doing here?"

"You can see that it's me but you can't see how many fingers I'm holding up?" He continued, ignoring my question.

"You're holding up three fingers..."

"Actually no, I'm holding up four."

"Great, very funny!"

"Still sarcastic I see," He turned his body fully around the table."Don't think I'm following you around. I came here with my mom and baby sister. They're gone though."

"That's nice, so everyone's okay?"

"Yes, except me."

"Yeah, whatever."

He laughed instead of giving a remark to my statement. A normal human would think I would ask him what was wrong. But it doesn't matter when you already know what he would answer and say.

"My baby sister says they're looking for volunteers at her school library–"

"–Why are you saying 'baby sister'? Isn't she like eleven now?"

"She's actually nine."

"That's not a big difference. But why are you telling me that?"

"I thought you liked being productive."

"Yeah, I do but you'll be there. Maybe you can get one of your thousands of followers to help you out."

"Are you snooping around my page?"

"I mean, I had to see who followed me."

"Fair enough. But, hey, we were about to do some hours when we were in eleventh grade." He recalled as he leaned back on the chair.

"But we didn't. We broke up, for real that time."

"Well, you were the one who said we should break up."

"Actually, you were."

"That doesn't sound right..."

"Aaron, I'm not going to argue about this. As you can see, I'm just trying to drink my smoothie."

"Drink your smoothie, I'm not stopping you. But can't we just do the voluntary service together?"

I took a minute to drink my smoothie, swallowed, wiped my mouth with a napkin and looked back at him.

"No."

"Okay, what can I do to change your mind?"

"When did you become so persistent?" I asked as I bit into my first cookie. Today was a good day, my mood couldn't be altered.

"I've always been persistent." He took a cookie from the container. "What if I promise not to succumb to my emotions?"

"Do you want your fingers? If yes, don't touch my cookies. And what does 'succumbing to your emotions' even mean?"

"It means that I won't bring up being together. I promise, unless you want to, of course."

"I don't want to. Anyway, why would I agree to do this with you?"

"Because my sister is involved."

"Your sister probably has no recollection of me."

He shook his head. "You are very wrong."

"If I agree to this you have to promise me something." I said, taking yet another sip of my milkshake.

"Okay, anything,"

"Don't talk so much."

* * * *
Author's note:

Thank you for reading! Have a nice day as well.
Vote and comment if you liked this chapter & recommend it to those who would swoon over Aaron's words.