❝I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush.❞
In which, a run-down sandwich shop intertwines the fates of two kindred souls who are just trying to get by.
(Richie kisses both of her hands and extends them to her as thanks, "You're the fuckin' best, Dee!")
Besides Delilah finds getting everything ready for the day— a therapeutic process and it gives her time to unwind from the stress from her other work.
Delilah lifts the metal frame covering the entrance and sees the lights open. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion with the lights being open. "Did Carmen forget to close the lights last night?", she thinks as she unlocks the door.
She sets her bag on the counter and quietly makes her way to the kitchen. Delilah spots the blonde man sitting on the floor, papers scattered around him.
"Carmen?" Delilah quietly calls out. Carmen looks up, hair disheveled and eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
"Delilah?" Carmen mutters. She watches him with furrowed brows as he runs his hand through his curls, "Fuck, what time is it?"
"Carmen, it's like 7 AM. Did you stay here?— Well, I was jus' tryin' to look for a document, must've lost track of time— Carmen." Delilah chastised exasperatedly and Carmen averted his eyes, "So, you haven't left since you closed the shop at 11 last night?" He gives a curt nod in response.
Delilah looks at him pointedly, "Did you eat at least?" There is a beat of silence. "No, uh, I mean, I ate a sandwich? I didn't eat dinner. I honestly don' remember."
"C'mon, I'll make you breakfast."
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"Then after I asked her multiple times about the alternative dairies we had. She had theaudacity to tell me, 'That, oh, I'm allergic'. Who does that!"
"And you won't believe what she did next." Carmen shrugs, "She dumped the latte on the floor! God, just thinking about it makes me infuriated."
Carmen hums and continues to listen to Delilah's ramblings about her day. She is an animated talker with hands rapidly moving and all. He chuckles quietly to himself— maybe he should stop her and remind her to take a breath.
"Oh! Carmen," Delilah calls out gently with eggs on hand, "Any preference for how you like your eggs?" He shrugs, "A sunny-side-up egg?" She jokingly salutes him, "Yes, Chef!"
This is nice, Carmen thinks as he closes his eyes. He takes in the fragrant aroma of garlic; the sizzling of the pan and the melodic lilt of Delilah's voice. And he tries to ignore the ache in his heart or the intimacy of it all.
"Here you go!" Delilah sets the plate of food in front of him. She takes the seat across from him with her own plate in hand.
His eyes open to a carefully plated dish. He vaguely recognizes the items on it but
"Can I get a run-down of what this is, Chef?" Carmen notices Delilah's ears reddening, she's flustered. He tries to hide his smile behind the palm of his hand.
