Serendipitous

Part 11

Persephone

Every fibre in my body is shaking softly as I pick my keys from the cold benchtop they're sitting atop of. They jingle as I shrug a crossbody bag onto my shoulder, and continue that way as I reach the front door of my apartment, tugging it open and stepping outside and into the hallway. I jump in the elevator, wringing my fingers together as I nervously descend the levels of my apartment complex. My loud, anxious sighs become more apparent as I cross the parking lot, unlocking my car and throwing myself into the drivers seat. Once seated, I place my head on the steering wheel, cursing my lack of sleep last night.

After Max called yesterday afternoon, I was barely able to keep myself together when I returned home. I was a mess of emotions and anxiety regarding my whole public appearance, and honestly, I still feel like I'm one loose thread away from falling to pieces. I think I'm overwhelmed than upset, although I do feel a little violated. I guess celebrities or general people of significant importance get used to being photographed without their knowing, but for me, a normal person, it's a little unnerving. For all the photographing I do, I hate being in front of a camera. I prefer working to make magic, rather than becoming the magic myself. Although, I'm sure all of that links to being a background character for the majority of my life, a wallflower. No one did look at me with great importance, so it's unnatural for anyone to start doing it now.

I straighten out my spine and fiddle with the overhead mirror to kill a moment of spare time, begrudgingly putting the car into drive in the following seconds. I pull out of the parking lot, turning the wheel subconsciously onto the already-busy roads. I'm sure that if even my brain couldn't remember where Judie's diner was, my heart sure could. How couldn't it? It's the place where I felt the most connected to an individual in my entire life, a feeling I thought was too far out of reach to be realistic, and a feeling I'm worried will vanish as soon as Max open his mouth. 

He didn't say too much over the phone when he called yesterday, leaving all to be said for today. Leaving all my hopes and fears to boil over in the weight of my stomach, leaving me to imagine every single hopelessly impossible situations that could've ever been possible.

The drive to Judie's is far too short for my brain, working at over-time to simply function, and before I know it, I'm pulling into the practically empty parking lot. It's still early outside, the sun only just peeking up around the city's buildings.

Max had an early training session this morning, one which I didn't have to attend for work since it's a Sunday, so we decided to meet up afterwards for breakfast, to talk. To discuss whatever happened the other night, and probably crush whatever hope I had set in my heart into a million different pieces.

I stare over my steering wheel and towards the exterior of the diner. From where I'm parked, I can't see Max sitting inside, my heart dropping a little in my chest. What if he's stood me up? Gotten sick of the rumours and just got on with his life?

"Just shut the fuck up and go in there." I mutter to myself, pulling my car keys out of the ignition and unbuckling my seatbelt. With another long, large sigh, I grab my bag from beside me and push open the car door before I can think about the movement twice. The last thing I need to do now is overthink slight movements, when I have much more pressing issues to overcome.

I walk towards the front doors of Judie's quickly, my feet well Infront of my heart. I push open the heavy doors, the soft tinkling of a bell above my head bringing memories of the other week flooding back, with such a strong force that I'm surprised I don't actually teleport back to last week. My eyes instantly fly to the booth we sat in last week when we were here, labelled as 'our booth' in my mind. How pathetic is that? Naming one particular booth as yours, after you've only visited the place once? I bet the same booth is a thousand other peoples', with all their own memories and-