The North Star | COMPLETED ✔️

Chapter 13 ~ Relocation

Chapter 13

I never went to sleep. The Tequila bottle lay empty and discarded in the bushes to my right, and I sat in the same spot I had the night before. At the base of the bridge, staring at the hill he'd disappeared over and thinking.

He had every intention of coming back. He'd made that perfectly clear. This had gone from a blessing to some sort of fucked up courtship, and no matter how many ways I tried to spin it, the answer to my problem was obvious.

I needed to disappear and avoid it altogether. It wasn't like I had anything tying me to my location. Hell, it didn't even make sense to stay at the bridge. The shop was a long walk away, and I was sure the old man wouldn't mind relocating if I found a different spot.

Problem was, this one was by the bar, which meant cops tended to turn a blind eye to it. The rest of the city was heavily patrolled. Couldn't possibly force those rich suburban housewives to have to look at some random sleeping on a bench, or sitting, or simply existing. It might put a stain on their blissful existence. God forbid we should make them have to think about something real for once.

I heaved a sigh. I was being morbid, even for me. The whole situation had me ready to fight at the drop of a dime. I felt cornered, on edge. My anxiety seemed tight against the edges of my psyche, ready to burst. But I didn't have time for it.

A pink stained sky meant I needed to move. I pushed myself to my feet with a groan and hobbled stiff legged to where the old man lie snoring.

He looked so peaceful. Hands propped under his cheek, knees bent up to his chest. A perfectly, ugly little angel. It was almost a shame to wake him. Almost. Not really. Not at all. It was the only good thing about this morning given his early riser mentality and shitty way of waking me. It only seemed right that I pay him the same courtesy.

I smacked him hard across the cheek.

He spluttered, fists flying before his eyes could even open. I barely managed to pull back before one got me, and when he realized what had happened, his gaze fell on me and narrowed.

"You hit me?"

I shrugged, lips curving. "I thought that's how we did it. Like a homeless morning ritual. You're the teacher, old man. I'm just following your lead."

His chest rumbled as he ran a hand along his haggard face. "What do you want?"

"I want to move."

He cut a look up at me. "Are you frozen or tied in some way? You seem able to get along just fine. Not sure how the hell waking me was supposed to help you."

I snorted. "I mean from the bridge, oh wise one. I want you to come with me. We need a new spot."

"Ain't no new spot."

"How do you know?

He looked ready to knock my feet out from under me. "You ask too many questions. I'm old, girl. Old and tired. This is the best place to be, especially when the temperature drops. You may think those salamanders ain't warming us, but just wait until there's snow on the ground, and you'll notice them."

"Salamander?" I realized too late what he meant. I still couldn't understand why the hell they called them that.

He shook his head. "The flaming can!" He waved a hand out, eyes wide and disbelieving. "You mean to tell me you've been sitting next to that damn thing all this time, and you still don't know what it's called? See? That's my point. We shouldn't move. You young people are always so impulsive." He went about packing his stuff together, still muttering about today's youth and how I probably just wanted a new view.