1.1 | Prints and Pieces

02 | përkim

0 2

p ë r k i m

[Albanian]: A remarkable occurrence of events, without apparent causal connection.

UNUSUALLY, I WAS manning the cash register for the night. Darnell had called in sick, and as always, everyone else was rather preoccupied; cooking, waitressing, dishwashing, as well as all the other joys that came with our job of service.

My hands barely took another roll of change from Jenna, before I caught sight of a young woman walk—or rather, tumble into the restaurant.

The attention was caught almost instantly.

She swayed a bit, before steadying herself on her heels. Quite immaculately, if I might add. With a raise of her chin, she ignored any stares, wrapping her knee-length jacket around herself as she made her way over. Her eyes were hidden behind shades, and I could do nothing but slot the money in, while I waited for her to get to me. Especially if she wasn't going to pick a table.

Which I already knew she wouldn't.

She lifted her body and settled herself on the stool, afterwards, momentarily gripping the counter for balance.

"One shot—shit. A glass of water," she spoke up. "Or a bottle, any way you serve it...Just water, please."

I fought to hide my smile.

After mumbling an "excuse me," I reached into the nearby fridge and brought out a cold bottle. I slid it towards her with an optional glass. "Water, on the rocks," I announced.

She groaned. "That obvious?"

I scrunched up my nose in a false attempt at pondering, and then closely pinched my thumb and index finger for effect. "Just a smidge."

"Shit," she mumbled once more. Her fingers kept attempting to loosen the bottle cap with miscalculated roughness. "Screw it, anyways. Screw him."

Aha. Now, I figured we were getting to the reason for her little escapade with more than one too many drinks.

I was just about to offer to open the bottle for her, but she apparently got the hang of it just then, and tossed the cover aside. She raised the container and emptied over half its content in a few long gulps. Not a drop trickled down her chin.

She undoubtedly was a mess right now. Nevertheless, I didn't think I had seen someone handle it all in a way that was still oddly...classy.

Lengthy, brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, slightly obscuring her face, along with her dark glasses. I subtly eyed her attire, and came to the conclusion that she must have been quite well off.

"I think you should finish the—"

"I'm a good girlfriend, you know?" She cut me off. "I gave—I've always given that moron everything. And then he thinks he has the right to do this to me? He seriously thinks he can fuck me up? Who the hell—" She choked on a burp. "Who the hell does he think he is?"