Twenty One Pilots - Ruby
Dementia: a chronic or persistent disorder of the mental processes caused by brain disease or injury and marked by memory disorders, personality changes, and impaired reasoning. In most cases, loss of memory, acting as Alzheimers, or Amnesia.
"Hey, watch where you're going!" A grumpy old man in front of me shouted. I was currently carrying over a dozen bottles of chocolate milk, a little weird, but for me, it was the norm, since this was the closest shop to my house. "Maybe you should just get a gallon instead of grabbing that many at a time young asshole." Old men. The ones who asked for nicer young adults.
"I'm sorry, my husbands being a bit agitated today," an old woman walked up to me. "I'll pay for your milk if you want me too." Oh, what I wanted. A nice old lady to be nice to me every single day. That's right, every single day. This old lady was named Maggy, seventy-eight years old; however, also a fighter of dementia. She see's me in the store everyday, but doesn't remember who I am, and always comes for her chocolate muffin.
"No need, he's like that everyday," I smiled.
"Everyday? I didn't come here yesterday?" She brought her hand up to her temple.
"Right, uh, must've been another couple, I'm sorry," I said to her. "I hope to see you soon."
"It's okay," she smiled the same smile she always gave me.
"Grandma, Grandpa's waiting for you in the car, I was just talking to him," A young man walked in. "Do you need any help getting out there?" He asked her.
"Mark? Are you visiting?" She questioned, grabbing onto his arm. "This young lady won't let me buy her milk."
"I've been visiting for almost a week now Gran," he looked over to me with big brown orbs and a flashy white smile that could cure any disease. "Tell you what, I'll buy her milk if you wait right here."
"I really don't ne-"
"My Grandma insists," he helped me put the sticky plastic bottles onto the counter of the gas station. "Plus, you're kinda cute."
"Kinda?" I chuckled.
"Very cute, is that better?"
"Slightly."
"So, do you see my Gran often?" He asked. "She goes here everyday."
"I in fact see her everyday," I sighed. "She's a very nice lady."
"Believe it or not, my Grandpa used to be super polite to everyone before she came down with, a cold," he looked back at her. "He used to buy others things, because Gran used to do it all the time, still tries, I should say."
"Where are your parents?" I asked. "Shouldn't they be helping you?"
"My parents are divorced, and if my dad were alive, he would have them stay with him," he looked down at the change he received. "But, uh, my names Mark, it was nice to meet you," he took a deep breath.
"My names (Y/N)," I smiled.
"By any chance can I have your number?" He grabbed my bag off the counter.
I took the bag from him. "Yeah actually," I smiled as he gave his phone to me.
"Whether you can or not, I'll see you tonight," he winked.
I giggled. "Alrighty then, it's a-"
"Date, it's a date."
"It's a date."
"You're welcome," the little old lady smiled to me.
Thank you so much Granny.
"My Grandfather suffers from Parkinson's Disease..."