Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 65862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
I shove my phone back in my bag and make the turn at the next block. There’s a diner here that sells good pie and I’m going to get a slice. I found out what I was going to be making each month at the gallery, and I know when my first paycheck is going to hit the bank. I’ve got enough to cover me until them and a bit left over for a couple of indulgences. Number one on the list right now is some warm apple butter pie with vanilla ice cream.
I go inside and the bell above the door rings, although I can hardly hear it over the noise in the place. There’s a jukebox playing Johnny Cash, and all the booths are taken. I go up to the counter and grab an empty stool between a couple of guys in suits. As soon as my butt hits the chair a waitress comes over and slaps down a menu.
“What’ll you have?” she says, like I should already know what I want. Lucky for her I do.
“Apple butter, with a scoop and one to-go,” I say, handing her my menu.
She comes back almost instantly and lays it down in front of me, with my to-go bag next to it. Johnny is going to love pie for dinner.
I take the first bite and moan to myself as the warm pie fills my mouth. But just as I swallow, the feeling from this morning comes back. This time it’s stronger and I swivel around in my seat to see who is watching me. It’s intense, like someone just called my name, only I know I didn’t hear it. My mind starts to play tricks on me and I wonder if I maybe someone did say it and I didn’t hear it over the noise.
“You okay?” The waitress says, filling up my water.
I turn back around, shaking it off, and tell her I’m fine and that the pie is delicious. But there’s a nagging feeling inside me, and I eat the rest of what I have much faster than I had planned.
I drop some cash on the counter and grab my bags before I leave the restaurant. It’s not that I’m scared, but I don’t feel settled. I walk quickly down the next block, staying in the well-lit parts of the streets. I make sure I go where people are milling around and I’m filled with a sense of relief when I see Johnny on his usual bench.
“You doing okay, kid?” he asks when I sit down beside him. “What got you all worked up?”
“Nothing,” I say, feeling totally fine now. I feel silly because it must have all been in my head. A moment ago I got a little spooked, but I’m here safe, so there’s no need to dwell on it.
“Apple butter?” he says, looking down in the bag. “You’re going to fatten me up.”
His easy smile is once again infectious and all my thoughts from before vanish. We sit for a short while and talk about our day before I tell him goodnight and head up to my apartment.
When I listen at the door, silence on the other side greets me. I cross my fingers that tonight Roxy might actually be out at a show or something and I can have some peace and quiet before bed.
I walk inside, and Bear is sitting in the armchair, which is a clear indication that Roxy isn’t home. My night improves immensely, and I happily greet Bear.
“Looks like it’s you and me tonight, handsome. What shall we do with ourselves?”
I walk into my bedroom and suddenly I stop. There’s nothing in the room that is totally different, yet it feels like someone was in here. I inhale and there’s a faint scent of cologne. It’s nothing like the stink of Roxy that I can smell from the other side of the house every time he puts it on. This fragrance is expensive and rich. It smells like oak and fresh trees, and I inhale again to try and get the scent. But it’s faded now and almost gone. I look around my bedroom and I don’t see anything out of place, but something is off.
I check the bathroom and even go back to the living room and kitchen, but everything is where it should be. I walk over the front door and check the locks just to be sure. Then I scoop up Bear in my arms and go back to my room. I close and lock my bedroom door, thinking I must be going crazy.
I’ll ask Roxy if he or his friends were in here before they left. That has to be the answer. Otherwise, what’s the alternative?
I tuck the key into my pocket as I close the door behind me. I keep waiting on the guilt to hit me, but it hasn’t happened yet. When it comes to her, all I ever really feel is obsession.