Short Story Bakery: The Vagabond

A Common Cold

9:06PM on a cool Sunday Southern California Evening.  

     "You really want this?"

     "Yes, I'm certain. I want to work this out, even though I like you a lot--I like my boyfriend more."

     Her beautiful brown eyes were piercing--his voice cracked, he was in complete disbelief. This person, this amazing person whom had been around for so long had finally placed all of the necessary nails in the coffin of this "relationship."

     They resembled a young couple attending the Hard Rock Cafe, but this particular moment in time didn't catch the carefree nature of such a couple.Their attire consisted of the casually informal flavor. His tall average builded stature wore a dull plaid shirt made up of greys, blacks, and blues, skinny black jeans, and a pair of black classic Nikes--all complemented his pale complexion and short choppy dark hair. Her hourglass Victoria's Secret model body rocked a black cardigan, black jeans, and a Led Zeppelin T-shirt--her evenly tanned complexion along with her long dark hair placed a dark alluring aura of mystery. Both rock stars in their own right.

     "Are you kidding me? Look at me. Do you have any idea what you're missing out on?" His light brown eyes gleamed under his bedroom ceiling light as he gazed directly into hers.

     "I need to give him another chance, regardless of what we've been through."

     "Do you love him or something?" His high jawline clinched, not because he wanted to be with her desperately, but because of the guilt he would bring unto himself if he may have interfered with her love for another person.

Short Story Bakery: The Exchange

Give me your tired, give me your sick

7:35PM on a warm partly cloudy Southern California Evening.

     The man pulled up to the curb of her house silently--headlights dimmed by dying sunlight, yet still blinding the rear of a red 2001 Chevrolet Silverado. Immediately after placing the car in park, and pulling the emergency brake he hesitantly picked up his iPhone and began to text. 

     "I'm here"  

     This text lit up her phone with an eerieness--her eyes gazing upon the blue screen with full knowledge of what would soon pass. 

     "k" 

     The only text response she could give, and the most indifferent one she could give. She wouldn't mislead, she would stand her ground as a statue carved upon a foundation of granite.

     He opened his car door, then took a box filled with precious memories in the form of belongings from the back seat. Some gifts from her that he couldn't bear to look at, everything else hers. As he approached the driveway towards the front door, a glass fell out of the box and shattered. The driveway now covered in broken glass, so unwelcoming, so fragile to the touch--much like this moment in time. He had replayed this moment in his head over and over again, but he never imagined it would be quite like this. Stressed, he tried gathering the pieces of glass into the box as fast as possible. Part of him was happy that this happened, a subconscious rage of breaking something in front of this person who had done so much damage already. However, the box of precious memories became tainted by the hidden assortment of sharp glass shards provided by the panicked urgency of the man. Irony.