Time Limit - f.h

2 | Indications

XANTARA
•1963•

The boy had left a while ago. He had eventually paid for my drink and some fries with the spare change in his blazer and walked out. It needed no goodbye. After all, we were strangers.

Reading didn't feel quite the same after he had gone so I decided to pack up my things. As I turned to the door, I glanced at the clock above it absentmindedly. "Shit" I mumbled and quickened my pace.

When I got out onto the pavement, most of the women had dispersed and I found it easy to navigate my way through the rest of the crowd. I began to jog, clutching my bag so it didn't crash against my left leg with every step.

I knew I had to be home for 3
I thought
So how did I end up losing an hour in that diner

Something about that boy made time non-existent

I turned the corner, taking all the shortcuts I'd learnt over the years. When I got to Haigh Way I knew to jump over the cracks in the floor below me. When I reached Rain Street, I remembered to wave to Mr and Mrs Fawn at the record shop.

Finally I was home. The Morty's Television Radio sign hung on the back door and I didn't hesitate to walk inside. Instead of heading straight up to the top floor, I went in through the shop, knowing I had to clean up for tomorrow's opening anyway.

Just as I was about to greet Uncle Elliot, I heard him shriek and clamber around for something. I waited, but after no retaliation, I carried on to the main counter. It may seem bizarre, but Uncle El's 'cries for help' usually meant he thought something from inside his photos had moved.

"You from the Pentagon? Huh?"
"Definitely not"

This made me stop. There was someone with him.
Elliot had planned for this: he told me if anything strange were to happen, where I was to find a weapon.

Always so superstitious.

In this case, I reached inside one of the show TVs- slowly as though not to make a sound- and grasped a knife.
He also told me not to use it and hide. Like hell I was going to listen to that if he was in danger.

I peeked my head around the door and looked into the foyer, knife pressed flat against my back.

They were upstairs.

He screamed again and this time I didn't hesitate in climbing up the stairs immediately. It was quiet for a while. I was quieter. I heard the familiar clinking of the coffee pot. Footsteps. I raised the knife. Ready to swing.

Then my eyes were met with those same ones from the diner. I lowered my weapon and sighed, "Jesus Five".

Initially, he seemed confused, "Xantara?" He mumbled, mostly to himself.
I shook my head, my hand pressed on my forehead, "Just Tara,"
His exterior seemed to soften for a second but he swiftly looked away.

"This Columbian?" He gestured to the coffee in his hands. I noticed his voice waver, Uncle El didn't. He had his hands raised in front of him, like I had a second ago except he was holding a much smaller weapon. It looked like... my nail file?

"It's my own blend," he said before turning his head to me, keeping his eyes fixed on Five, "Tara go downstairs please"

"No need" Five replied. And looked at me with a small smile, his eyes meeting mine for just a second. Long enough. I returned it and nodded to Elliot, directing my next words to him.