LOSING IT ALL //HAYLEY PARKER

01

~LOSING IT ALL ~

•
01| WHEN DID IT ALL END?
•

"ARE YOU SURE, MILLEY said she's turning into that very corner?' Jennifer Tompkins quips dryly, big pebble-black eyes peering curiously at me over the edge of her iPhone."Cause I don't see her, or her box of a car anywhere.'

"You know that patience's actually a virtue, right?' I say absentmindedly, flipping over a crispy page of Fear Of Flying.

The incessant cacophony of passing cars, the trilling of birds on nearby pine trees, and the raucous chattering from surrounding patios, makes me once again aware that we are both sitting by an O'Doul's Burger truck, having nearly frozen Coca-Colas and the most deliciously smoked turkey burgers ever made, while simultaneously waiting for our only ride home.

"Oh, pish.' Jennifer groans, finally tearing her eyes away from her Instagram reels. "FYI, you're barely holding up to that notion, so please, do me a favor and stop preaching."

An imperceptible grin tugs at the corner of my mouth at her curt response, compelling me to lower Fear Of Falling to the lumbering surface of our patio table.

Jennifer Tompkins, a tall, dark, and voluptuous creature sits across the wooden patio from me, her dark kinky hair fluffed around her shapely head in a popular Afro style, cladding her regular pair of dark washed bell bottoms, and navy halter top, only today she has a ragged denim jacket over it, protecting her against the splintery autumn evening breeze.

"And, what gives?' I grill anxiously, picking up my bottle of Coca-Cola, and dragging a deep sip of the refreshing mineral water from the blue striped straw that pokes out of the bottle.

She merely clicks her tongue, and shoves her iPhone back to her face.

"Backing down already, Miss. Tompkins?' I taunt, smiling devilishly at the scrunched up face she makes at something on her phone.

"Go to hell, Hayley Parker.' She drawls languidly, not deigning to look up from her phone. "Has anyone ever told you that you're such an awful pain in the arse?'

"Ouch!' I gasp, feigning hurt with a hand bunching the woolen fabric of my canary-yellow cardigan just above my heart. "My beloved, you wound me so greatly."

A sound akin to a chuckle bubbles out of her mouth, dark eyes crinkling at the corners as she stares at me over fake thick, mascaraed lashes. "Very Shakespearean indeed."

A bright smile envelops my face as I watch her return to staring abstractedly at the screen of her iPhone, elbows propped against the table, and the block heels of her brown booties tap-tap tapping against the cobblestone floor under her stool.

The late afternoon sunlight just along the horizon is obliterated by the drooping foliages of plane trees that whisper and sway against gusts of wind above our heads, fluttering through the scatter of golden leaves that carpets the wide sidewalks.

Down the street, I watch students hustle up and down the college premises, either hurrying home, or heading to attend to other businesses. A few walking in tandem, and chatting with each other. Most, though, are alone and silent with earbuds plugged in.

And just like that, a sudden wave of nostalgia hits me like an unprecedented punch to the face. And as my eyes lingers, the subtle memories of my enthusiastic self moseying down the street under the twinkling streetlights, the lilac colored sky, the all-night cafés with noise, and loud musics, my simpering laughter, and the smell of the city wafting through the cool night breeze re-emerges in my mind.