A Nightmare's Fate

Little Fred's

            Fate? Why the hell would fate bring us together? We're both strangers. It isn't like we're going to be together like what "fate" thinks, if fate is real.

            "So, let's start by introducing ourselves?" I begin a new subject.

            He nods in agreement and looks as if he's pondering a question to inquire. "What is yer occupation?" He glares at me with a curious expression upon his face.

            "I'm a journalist for the City Times," I say, now feeling a bit more comfortable than what I started with this afternoon. I raise my eyebrows for him to tell me what his business matter is.

            "Well, that tops what I do." He chuckles, clearing his throat to continue. "I'm a chef and owner of a restaurant called Shaulls," he answers.

            "What do you mean that doesn't top what I do? Being an owner of a restaurant and its chef is awesome!" I say with enthusiasm, enjoying our meeting.

            He blushes. "Thank you." He laughs. "So . . . favorite colors?" He bends his head downwards so I can’t see him smiling.

            I smile. "Originally, I love all colors. The rainbow and more, but my top three will have to be red, blue, and black."

            He looks up. "I like orange,” he says.

            I snort.

            "What?" He chuckles.

            "Why do you like orange?" I smile with a confused facial expression.

            "Why do you not like orange?" His hands gesture each side of him, kind of like I asked a question and he doesn't know the answer.

            "Everything. It's an odd color and it doesn't rhyme with anything," I say.

            "Really? It rhymes with . . . flor . . . ange." As he says it, his eyes blinks while looking puzzled, but then he raises his eyebrows after his comment.

            "Florange? That isn't even a word." I laugh.

            "It is too, it's a flower that is orange." He shrugs.

            "A flower that is orange," I repeat. "Yes, I think that is what something that isn't a word means." I shake my head and roll my eyes. "Do you have a favorite animal?"

            "Oh, I love pandas, they are so adorable. What about ya?" He tilts his head to the side.

            "I'm a wolf lover, wolves all the way." I bob my head like I'm dancing to music and I smirk.

            "Have any pets? I have dog named Inkspot, she's––"

            He gets cut off by a server who gives us our food.

            "No, I don't have any pets. I would have a cat, but I'm highly allergic." I take a bite from my sandwich.

            "Oh, wow. I'm allergic to cats too." It's very interesting that we have things in common, and that it's all going swell. I'm ecstatic that I haven't ran out the door yet, that I'm not sad anymore. It's like Errik is the one that's keeping me from crying or thinking deeply into too much thoughts. Being here with him, it's like I'm here with Kenton.

            Kenton.

            I glance down and ponder, my life flashing behind my eyes and all the dreams I had before with him inside them. I try my best not to cry.