Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
The clearer sight of her home has the smile I didn’t realize I had grown growing bigger.
Wider.
What! Putting aside the fact she’s…drop dead beautiful… she spoke to me. She actually spoke to me. Do you understand what I’m saying? She didn’t yell. She didn’t scream. She didn’t insult me or threaten to call the cops. She talked to me like she viewed me as a person rather than a pest. And yeah, the conversation was a little one sided – given that I didn’t say shit – but it didn’t deter her from continuing to try. And you know what? I haven’t been able to shake that small high of humanity since. The need for another hit has been pushing me to go back every day. To see if I can have another or if it was just a fluke. A flub. A one-off. That…irresistible feeling of being treated like an actual human being has me curious to see if maybe I just caught her in an unusually kind mood or perhaps in a charitable mindset. Part of me is anxious to know if she sees me as an actual living, breathing, individual worthy of kindness or love or if she’s just like everyone else who labels me as a parasite of society.
As much as I wish I could just walk up to her door and knock, I know the invitation extended was just politeness.
She wasn’t actually offering me a chance to go inside.
To get to know her.
To talk like a date versus a stranger you’re just shooting the shit with.
Fuck, a date? Did I really just…even…think that shit? What the fuck is wrong with me? Am I suffering from lack of nutrition again? You’d think my body would be used to this shit by now.
I cautiously approach the area her trashcan and recycle bin are stored, eyes continuously sweeping the scene, knowing two of her neighbors are not only nosey, but meddling. Last week one of them – I’m pretty sure the one that lives directly next door – left a note on top of Pizza Woman’s trashcan labeling me a bum and threatening to call the cops if she saw me digging around again.
Which makes coming back here even riskier than it was when I showed up on Pizza Day. But…I…can’t seem to help myself. I wanna see her again. And hear her again. And get another dose of kindness that I haven’t had in fucking years. Plus, her trash is still some of the freshest around and a guy’s gotta eat.
Just as I prepare to open the door to the white fenced enclosure where the supply treasure chests are stored, the sound of her front door opening halts all my movements.
My breathing.
I don’t even consider fucking blinking.
“Hey, you,” Pizza Woman warmly calls out causing my heart to beat a little harder against my ribcage. “How about Chinese tonight?”
Fuck. Me.
She’s still using the same tone.
Offering the same…compassion.
Sucking in a deep breath, I run my hands along the front of my jacket to iron out any wrinkles I possibly can, anxious to look more presentable.
Not that it fucking matters. This isn’t date number two or number four when she invites me in for a drink that’s clearly going to lead to sex. This is just…Well, it’s just…Look, I honestly don’t know what it is other than an unexpected meal I didn’t have to pick off maggots from. Or cook maggots with to have a better source of protein for the day.
By the time I finally turn around, not only is she casually cradling the container of food ready to hand it over like its Tupperware and we’re neighbors, but she’s standing closer.
Much closer.
Almost too fucking close.
I wouldn’t hurt her. I would never hurt a woman. It’s just her being so close to someone like me…is the last thing I would ever expect. It’s crazy enough she’s this…welcoming. I can hardly fathom the idea she’s not repulsed by the look of me or the smell. Yeah, I mean I took a shower a little bit ago and do my best to keep myself somewhat groomed – that whole blend in with your surroundings shit – but she knows what I am. She has to. She knows and still doesn’t mind being in my presence. How is this shit possible?
“It’s from Phởcking Duck, this Asian Cuisine restaurant that’s in the same shopping complex as Loca Mocha Casabloca.” She gives a small bite to her lightly glossed bottom lip. “Have you ever been?” A small cringe unexpectedly occurs on her face, which I assume is from worry that she offended me. “To the Chinese place, not the coffee one.”
Huh.
Not the clarification I was expecting.
“Or to the coffee place? Have you been there?” Anxiousness to know more information has her beautiful eyes widening. “Have you tried both?”