On a dime

LUNCH

We slipped down the walls we had frantically climbed during our game of cat and mouse. We walked into the diner together, sat at a table, and waited for a waiter.

"So, tell me what happened with the girlie of yours before, y'know, the incident." She said it almost as if she really wanted to know. She had this look on her face like she wasn't the girl who just tried to steal booze from me.

"We, uh, we were on and off for about a year. She was great. She was thin, with blonde hair like the sun and eyes that could hypnotize any man or woman she crossed. She loved me, and I loved her, but, apparently, the police thought we were up to no good." I was being a little too revealing. " We were running together, the same route we ran all the time. We crossed from one building to another, and then the police showed themselves. I managed to keep running and get out, but she wasn't so lucky. I came back after the police had left. She was there. Knife wound in her side, bullet wound in her head. She had fought multiple officers. There was a knife in her hand. I carried her to the nearest rooftop garden and buried her. She loved flowers. I figured the rooftop garden would've been her choice." I was practically crying at this point. "I loved her. And they took her from me. That's why I do these runs all the time. That's why every route I run goes past that building, and that garden." I pointed vaguely out the window at a cluster of robes to the east. "That's why the flower means so much to me. She had taken it from the garden before she died. She gave it to me the day before." I stopped, let my head drop, and started crying.

"Hey. I'm sorry I've been giving you a hard time. I had someone too. My story isn't nearly as sad as yours, but my last relationship ended with him and 2 other girls chilling on the rooftops while I ran for money because he was too busy with those girls to work, and I needed money." She said it blatantly, one hundred percent trusting that I was the only one listening.

Our food came. We ate. We cracked jokes, and had a great time. As we got up to leave, after exchanging numbers, of course, the people walked into the diner. One man, about 17, flanked on either side by a girl wearing debatably too much makeup.

The girl, whose name I finally knew, (it was Rose), turned to me and mouthed, "That's him."

I grabbed her by the hand. We walked out the door, me practically pulling her out. When we got into the open air, we climbed back up to where our previous encounter had taken place.

"Thank you." Rose said, blushing, and looking downward, avoiding my face.

"It's no problem, " I said, looking her in the eye. "Anytime you need me, you call, ok?"

"Okay." Rose said almost immediately. "Thanks again for the meal. I'll see you later, dork."

"Later, Rose. Take care."