“Are you a virgin?”

What a random question, to someone so oblivious by nature, so uncharismatic. A question that left me, the lady being asked, speechless and tongue tied in her own definitions of ‘virgin’. I was beyond trapped in my own twisted fantasies that I was left stunned by his impression. He could be joking. I can almost feel every single nerve tingling and dying and reconnecting at once; it’s rejuvenating. I never, though, could imagine that a man of such honest simplicity can make a woman stare at insanity, but why? “I am,” I say with a façade of shyness. 

His eyes on the other hand, are abyssal, and at that very moment I believed in the devil and his temptations. Get back into reality, I’m thinking too much about something so simple. I take a quick glance at him and quickly flinch, and begin to fidget with the coffee that I delayed. His presence left me and I quickly relaxed. Staring down at the coffee grounds, the dirty mug, the steel gray counters, and I became tranced in their plain details. I love attention, it’s like finding the perfect syringe of heroin after the flu symptoms start. Do your job. The scent of the brewing espresso snaps me awake from the foggy twilight. I am possibly the stupidest and loneliest woman on this entire planet, the evidence being that I was stupefied by a man any less or more than ordinary. 

“Have you made the espresso yet?” The voice behind me asks. 

 I smile and place the cup on the counter, scourging my brain for a continuation to the coming conversation. I couldn’t talk though, conversing with humans is fear mongering. Speak. “Yeah, you can run it to the table.” The server with the unfamiliar face thanks me and walks off, and I’m left alone cringing at an encounter that is ever so normal. 

The job itself is rather steady, with its occasional rushes and slows. An average job at an average restaurant that presents itself to be bigger than its actual picture. “Did you finish everything?” The lady beside me asks.

“Yup, everything is done.”

“Everything?”

“Don’t get why you need me to repeat myself, but yes, everything and anything is done.”

She goes back to finishing her side of work. I don’t mind having her command me around, since she’s the one who trained me; making her my superior. Everyone in life has their superior, like a father or a mother, and your boss. What I noticed about humanity is that everyone follows this rule of superiority at a specific degree. You can believe in God which then makes God your superior, or even in the sciences, making the limits of your mind your superiors. Relax. 

I sit back against the steel counter and search the dining area for the man with abyssal eyes. I have no reason to be attracted to this man, but my sheer excitement is murderous; it’s bloodthirsty. There he is. I follow his movement, the way his limbs move, the way his eyes take in his surroundings. I am watching everything and taking it in as eye candy, it’s a treat to observe him like a speculating ghost. Unfortunately, I don’t exist in his world yet. This is a world full of labyrinths and immemorial paths, filled with endless shapes and lurid hues. In a world of repeating legends, histories and songs, a world full of the passing leaves men have crumpled upon; I do not exist in his version of the world. I wonder, if in his world, he can see the serpents that dance in the shadows. Does he see the lunar nodes the same way I do? 

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

His face is a company of the stars, his left eye is full of melancholic sorrow while his right eye is made of joy and mirth. Stop staring.

I continued my shift normally, nothing out of the usual, everything was still. Where is he?  I never saw him again for the rest of my shift; crushed my spirit. I wonder why his disappearance bothered me so much, especially when I acknowledge my dimmed presence in his life. I clean up the counters, wiping them down gingerly with a rag that has been reused by thousands of hands, wiping away the smudges of my disappointment. I want to see your every bone broken, your nose torn, eyes popped and sunken. If you have a soul I want it found. At least the counters are clean and I’m ready to leave, back to my room, my own universe. My hands are stained sweetly with glaze, and I can’t help but think about him for a split second. 

I look at him and try to find a glimpse of us, an us that simply doesn’t exist. 

I miss him so much, but not the man from today; I miss the man who I thought of when he spoke to me. Rushing to grab my things, I walk out the restaurant with tears swarming my eyes, for this world is a song he plays for himself and no other may hear. Outside, the rain was pouring above the mystifying humidity swallowing us whole, a world beneath the fog created from the mazes each individual brings. The parking lot was still full, it was only the early evening, and I had plenty of time left to work on my own trinkets. He won’t be there, just me and the murmur of the planets that are silent to man but nonetheless a wonderful chorus to God. I always park my car far, mainly because I enjoy those small walks to and from work; this time I had the rain brush lightly against my skin. A rain so cold and calm, that it can shatter the glass brought to creation by the moody aura. 

I arrived at my  car and fumbled through my apron to find my keys, not thinking too much about my surroundings, or the cars passing by. To my left, two parking spots away, is a red car that caught my attention. There was nothing special about it, at least in my world I believed there was nothing to think about it. I open the door of my silver car and take in the scent of the familiar incense and strawberries, a scent so comforting and reliving. It was just right. Sitting in my little universe, I enjoy the comfort and mess of the small space. The old coffee cup, the perfume bottles lying around, the paper wraps on the floor, the clear quartz hanging gracefully off my rear-view mirror, all in perfect sync with one another. I find the empty space between the mess to be the most beautiful, spaces awaiting to be captured, only for me to clean up the mess so they are never captured. I inhale slowly and savor the brief moment of relaxation. To briefly forget is a bliss in life that is forever overlooked, as we are all used to being suffocated. Look.

There he was!  The red car turned out to be special after all! He was fairly attractive after all, yet that still doesn’t explain my fascination with him. You’re lonely. He was lean, well groomed, and as my memory can tell me, he carried an aromatic scent of old expensive cologne and long burned out cigarettes. He didn’t acknowledge me, at least not to my understanding. I watch him steadily, and carefully analyze his toned arms and physical features. In the moment, I saw a dream of what it could be, and I saw what the angels saw. A serpent scaled with prismatic delirium. I was again trapped in a gaze, staring him down unrelentingly while he wandered down the lot, passing a path where flowers bore. Stop staring.