“Another water with lemon?”

“Yes, please,” Larissa said.

With a clunk, the waitress set the glass down on the cafe table. The water sloshed on the table. Droplets landed on her well creased paperback. Larissa rubbed her book cover with the hem of her jacket. This was her fourth glass of water. Her bladder was about to bust. But she wasn’t going to move from this seat at this outdoor cafe. This time would be different.

Larissa was a good girl. Her mother taught Sunday school. Her daddy served as a deacon. And every Sunday found her in church, front and center. Larissa smoothed a hand over her long sweater. I should have worn the flowery dress, she thought. Nervously she glanced up and down the street as she sipped at her water.

Larissa was never one to make a fuss. With three older brothers and a baby sister, she learned to never ask for too much. And she had the church. There was choir practice and mission work. Her mother was thrilled Larissa never got boy crazy the way some girls did. The waitress circled her table. Larissa pretended to look for something urgent in her purse.

At first Larissa didn’t understand liking girls was a bad thing. It was as natural as breathing in and out. Quickly she got the message and hid in plain sight, pretending to be shy instead of disinterested in dating boys. It worked for a while until college. Her friends were always trying to play matchmaker. Matchmaking led to her friend’s brother, Thomas.

Awkward around people, Thomas was the first person Larissa came out to. He was easy to talk to and pretending with him was easier than standing on the truth alone. Larissa checked her phone for the fiftieth time. No text from Josie. She’d tried so hard to be good. She married Thomas and set up house. Soon there would be children and Sunday school. Until Josie. She was just a thumbnail on the screen, an attendee on an online prayer group.

They had so much in common. Same traditional religious background, same need to please, Josie was Larissa’s spirit in another body. They texted and called each other everyday. Thomas had to tell Larissa she was falling in love for the first time. They talked all night before Larissa asked Josie to meet up in real life.

Maybe Thomas is right. Josie was a complete stranger. A voice on the phone, pixels on a screen. Thomas was the person she was supposed to be with, right. Am I really upending my life for someone I don’t know from Adam. Larissa thought. She slammed close her book. Her eyes burned. She left in a huff.

“Miss, Miss, you dropped yout book, “Left Hand of Darkness, excellent taste, beautiful.”

With a pixie cut and lovely long lashes, the stranger from another table handed Larissa her book. They held each other gaze for a long moment before looking away. She tucked her book in her coat pocket. She read it as a child late at night with a flashlight while her family slept. Larissa didn’t know why she grabbed it today. Something to keep her company iwhen Josie didn’t show.

A warm flush spreading from her toes to her crown as Larissa walked to her car. In a couple of days she knew Josie would reach out with an excuse and tearful promises to turn up next time. Again. Larissa turned around and noticed the stranger was checking her out. Driving away, Larissa set her book on the passenger seat and smiled to herself.

Life of a lactose intolerant means I am not ashamed of pooping in a public bathroom. With the uncomfortableness of my bowel movements, the passing of gas also occurs. It’s part of the territory. Normally, I am on the dealing end of those toots, except for this time.

_Crap, not again! _“Be right back,” I noted quickly to the table as I stood and took my purse with me. “She’s going to poop,” prompted my sister. “I told you not to eat that queso.” “I told you not to get that hair cut,” I retorted as I walked away.

As I made my into the bathroom, I quickly glanced under the doors of the stalls. Score! No one is here. Grateful to do my business in peace. I picked my stall, put down some paper, and got comfy. Well as comfy as you can get in that situation.

I held my stomach in pain as a bubble of gas bulldozed it’s way though my lower intestine. Wincing in pain, I let the bind break from my cheeks, anticipating the relief. The sound echoed of the walls of the toilet, stall door, and ceiling of the bathroom. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the vibrations were felt throughout the restaurant. I sighed in relief when I finished.

Suddenly, I heard a snickering in the next stall. _Was someone here for that?! _ I thought in a panic. Just then two feet came down and set themselves on the floor in front of the toilet in the stall to my left. Doc Martin boots with a rainbow beaded candi lacing the backs of the boots. My face washed hot as I realized someone had been hiding in the stall right next to mine while I just ripped the craziest fart ever.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to laugh. It’s just I was waiting until you left to do this,” the voice nest to me said. Just then, a thunderous assrip shook through the air. Louder and smellier than mine was. I sat shocked, slowly covering my nose as it became deadly to breathe comfortably in the bathroom now.

“I’m lactose intolerant,” said the voice. “Me , too! I keep baby wipes in my purse just in case something happens in public. Like now, I guess.”

“Could I have a couple?” A hand belonging to the stranger poked sheepishly under the stall door. I admired the rings that adorned the long, strong fingers.

“Sure. Of course,” I reached in my bag for the pack of fresh scented baby wipes and pulled two out of the packaging and handed them to the hand of my companion in the restroom. I finished my business and cleaned up. I checked my outfit and hair before stepping out into the bathroom to wash my hands. I quickly checked my teeth and makeup to see if I needed a touch up. I hadn’t even seen this persons face, I had no reason to primp myself, I don’t know why I did it. I started to lather my hands and singing happy birthday to myself in my head.

The stranger flushed and stepped out of the stall. I glanced up at her in the mirror. She was tall, in a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, hair in a short style that some would consider boyish, still it suited her look. She walked up to the sink nest to me and began washing her hands, too. I looked over my shoulder to her and gave her a smile. She chuckled as she lathered the soap on her hands.

I finished and took my wet hands to the paper towel dispenser. “I can’t believe I ripped it like that in front of another person. I’ve literally never done that. Not even in front of my ex-girlfriend.” _Suttle, nice. _

She finished and walked over to me at the paper towel dispenser, taking a few to dry her hands. “Same here,” she chuckled again. “I’m Maxine, by the way. I think since we’ve farted in front of each other, we should be on a first name basis.” She put her had out to shake mine, I took her hand.

We looked into each others eyes in that moment. I don’t know if it was because of the smell of the bathroom or if the air between us grew thicker with anticipation. Her eyes were forest green with a slight grey center. She had freckles all over her face, and one dark one on her top lip in the center off to the right side. I realized how intently we were staring at each other when someone else walked into the bathroom. We watched the woman and her daughter come through the door and immediately cover their noses. “Mommy, its stinky in her.”

I feel the rain clinging to my clothes.

The grey clouds rolled in like the sea of emotions brewing into a thunderstorm from within. Everything is just falling down. It doesn’t matter how hard I try, I’ll never be good enough. Not to my parents, certainly not to society, and even to myself.

I had not the slightest of clue why—of all the places—did my feet end up at this location. The air heavy and wet clothes, inflicting multiple shivers out of me.

A throat clears to my left, waking me out of a pitiful daydream. Startled, I turned my head to the individual, making sure my curles hid my tear streaked eyes from the stranger. I could’ve sworn I was the only one on the schools roof, especially after hours.

“If your planning on jumping, wouldn’t it be better to do it up there?” The nosy teenage boy points behind himself, to another part of the roof, higher than the one we currently stood on.

“I can’t even wallow in peace,” I mumbled, turning my head away from the boy. Interestingly, I’d never seen him before. At least not in the dreadful halls of my school.

“Not with that attitude, at this rate, you’d might as well wallow in no nonsense,” the rocks grumbled with every step he took, making his way very close to me. I turned once more, this time looking up at his height. The one side of his cheek exposed to me, held a dimple as he smiled.

“You don’t go to this school,” I stated rather than questioned. I came up here to avoid the problems, hide from those crude bullies, turn away from disappointment, and possibly find a solution to everything. Yet, here stood another problem.

“Who said I’m not?” He looked to me, suspicious.

“My bad, next time change out the enemies crest, and I’ll pretend as though I’ve seen you enough times in this school, to not be suspicious.” He looked down to the the label of his school on his left chest, the school that rivaled mines. Quite honestly, it’s pretty easy to find the answers to why he stood up here. I knew there to be a game tomorrow in the landscaping feild, in front of us.

His clothes were wet, but not as wet as mines. It made sense when the answer to that were the dispicable students, who determined I was the bane of their existence. Sheepishly, he rubbed his nape, piercing green eyes finding mines.

Slowly, I turned away from those eyes. Those eyes that held a story ranging from a mystery, to one’s similar to mines. I stared at the huge purple _H _in the middle of the fields grass, looking as gloomy as I felt inside. Yet, my mind became occupied by more thoughts. Thought provoking thoughts. Ones that further pushed me into the dark abyss.

Maybe I was asking myself the wrong questions. I was the common denominator in peoples problems. Maybe I am the problem.

Both me and the rivaled teen, basked in the others silence. The quiet, a rare comfortable sound, grouped with the pitter patter of rain which sped up the longer our shoes stayed rooted in rocks.

I felt the nudge of a shoulder, bump into my own. Blinking from my thoughts, I ignored it. Another bump pushed me a little off balance. I didn’t want to turn, but did with the intention to send a hot glare his way. Unfazed by my glare, he looked at me expectantly.

“What?”

“You got a name?” He smiled, damp raven hair falling down his forehead.

“Yea,” I answered simply.

“Well what is it?” He patiently asked, head tilting and brows scrunched.

“I don’t give strangers my name,” I look him up and down, hoping the message got across.

“We don’t have to be.”

“Not negotiable, we’re going to be strangers.” I pushed, every syllable outing themselves in my response. I didn’t realize it, but of all the times I thought about my life. This was the one time I felt as though there was light.

“Okay stranger, don’t you got other plans than to be sulking.”

“Don’t you have plans that involve sabotage, and not minding my business.” I folded my arms half heartedly across my chest, this conversation felt too light hearted. More light than all the heavy I carried in every conversation.

“That reminds me,” he claps in remembrance. “If the stranger doesn’t mind, I have pranks to set up against your classmates.” He slowly backed away, hands up in mock surrender. On the floor, where he’d once stood held a duffel bag I’d fail to notice. I gently glanced at the duffle and back at him, before he slightly trips on top of it.

“That’s embarrassing.” I snort. He regained his footing, finding my eyes again to glare humorously.

“You wanna know what’d be even more embarrassing,” I send an expectant look. Clueless, I tilt my head for his response.

“The enemy,” he point’s at me. “Helping the enemy,” he points the same finger at himself. I wanted to question how childish he was, but came to the sense of the same childish bullies on the football team.

“Fuck it,” I muttered before assisting on basic revenge. This might’ve not have been as bad as what they delt me in, but the thrill was better. The thrill to once in my life, have someone on my side, even if not for the same reasoning. For once to think of something other than the cruse to be my life.

Hi cutie What’s your name My names Lottie And are you to blame?

You are so pretty Like I’ve never seen before Your just saying that Larry You know what’s in store?

I saw the books fall from her hands As the wind took the papers in breeze She drew the attention of every single man It’s something she could do with ease

I was rhe first one to her side And then with heaven, I locked eyes My heart began to pound, nearly numbing my side As I stood there in awe, gazing at the rest of my life

The smell of roses fill the air The sun shines off her face so fine and fare My emotions arise as my eyes aim in between her golden hair flowing in the wind goosebumps burr Got me in a grip now I’m pinned Forgive us father for we had sinned As I fall forward and bore backwards I hear angels singing away my fear I heal after feeling how I feel

When Beatrice was seventeen, she was absolutely certain she met the love of her life, despite having only lived 20% of it.

But then they broke up. She spent most of her twenties dreaming about fictional men instead. And when her friends kept encouraging her to get on a dating app, she eventually did, and dated a few people here and there. But nothing lasted long enough.

It was in her thirties when her sister got married and had children. Her sister was younger than her. Beatrice adored babysitting her darling niece, and she did a lot of it, since her sister worked two jobs. Romance was no longer a priority. She told herself she’d get around to it eventually.

Instead, Beatrice got a cat. His name was Oreo. She spent her forties watching her niece grow up and taking care of Oreo. But whenever she watched a movie or a show sprinkled with a starstruck romance, she couldn’t help but sigh longingly.

In her fifties, she quit being a manager at a retail store to work at a hair salon instead. Everyone there was either married, or a starry-eyed twenty-year-old with a lot of opinions. They considered her to be the work mom. She was happier there, and it helped her cope with Oreo’s death.

Beatrice eventually adopted a new kitten and named her Omelette. Her newborn grandnephew loved to play with Omelette whenever she babysat him, and her clients at the hair salon loved to listen to stories about the antics the little ones got in together.

When Beatrice was sixty-seven, she was absolutely certain she would not meet the love of her life, because she lived almost 70% of it.

Even now, in the library she took her grandnephew to, while he was busy in the manga section, she found herself wandering to the section of romance books. At least until she was abruptly stopped.

“Oomph!” Someone grunted as they bumped into her.

Before Beatrice knew it, the quiet library was grappled by the resounding noise of falling books. She fell backwards on her bum as her arms instinctively raised to shield herself from the rain of literature. It was over in two blinks of an eye.

“Désolé— erm, sorry!” The man in front of her stammered, gawking at the incident.

The man looked absolutely mortified. He appeared to be in his late sixties, donning a fedora that hid his receding hairling and glasses that framed his aging eyes. But when he saw Beatrice, his expression softened.

Her silky, short grey hair was curled beneath her ears. She wasn’t angry or upset at all—instead, she was smiling, with soft wrinkles under her cheekbones. Her eyes crinkled with amusement as she looked up at him, and he was taken aback by how beautiful she was.

“It’s okay.” Beatrice reassured with a soft chuckle, her voice thin and sharp with experience and use. “Was that… French?” She asked, referring to his apology.

The man bobbed his head into a nod. “Yes, I’m from France. I was here to sign books.” He answered with a sheepish smile, then gingerly offered his hand to her. His soft-spoken accent was soothing to hear.

“You mean you’re…” Beatrice’s voice trailed off, and she glanced over to the direction of the book signing table she recalled seeing at the front of the library. “Oh my, that’s impressive!” She grinned and took his hand. “I’ve never met an author before.”

He was surprised by how firm her grim was. Her hands seemed so delicate, yet she was quite strong. He pulled her up and let his touch linger before he retracted his hand.

“Ah, I’m only the scientist behind the research, it was my friend who put it to paper. It was a collaborative effort.” The man chuckled as he adjusted his glasses.

He bent down to pick up the books he dropped. Beatrice, despite how she just got up, knelt down too so she could help. “Still impressive.” She remarked.

The man exhaled a small, amused breath through his nose, his eyes glistening with joy. He cleared his throat and looked down to the books he was picking up. “Erm… and what brings you here?”

“I’m here with him.” Beatrice explained as she picked up a novel, and pointed to her grandnephew with the book she held.

The boy was sitting on a beanbag chair on the other side of the large room, his nose buried deep in the manga he was reading. So much so that he didn’t seem to notice her fall earlier.

“Your grandson?” The man guessed.

“No, no! My grandnephew. I don’t have children.” She laughed. She was used to this assumption.

“Ah, then, are you married?” The man asked before thinking.

Beatrice met his eyes when he asked this, causing him to immediately drop his gaze back to the ground. His heart hammered in his chest as a surge of embarrassment rippled through every beat. He was about to apologize for his boldness, but then she spoke up again.

“I’m not. Are you?” Beatrice asked with a pursed grin, mentally crossing her fingers.

“No.” The man scratched his cheek and turned his head to hide his happy smile. He sighed, recollecting himself, and met her eyes again. “I… do not have any family. I dedicated my life to my research, but now that I’m retired, I think it would be nice to find one.”

Beatrice bit her lip and stared at him with a hopeful twinkle in her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt such a fluttery feeling in her stomach.

“Uh, I’m Pierre, by the way.” He smiled shyly.

“I’m Beatrice.” She replied gently.

Silence befell them, the air thick with hesitation and quiet giddiness. She watched his changing expression as he seemed to go through as many thoughts in his head as she was. Their minds were racing, getting so close to the finish, a line they wanted cross.

“Since you’re from France, I can show you around later if you want. There’s a restaurant I know.” Beatrice suggested to break the tension, and held her breath with anticipation.

Pierre’s eyes widened. He smiled so widely that his dentures could’ve fallen out, and his eyes twinkled so brightly they could’ve reflected in his glasses. He opened his mouth to reply.

“Y-yes! That would be… that would make me happy.”

It was new for the whole family to go to a college orientation, obviously, I’m the eldest. Mama said it was best for us to stay overnight so we could get a feel for dorm life and so we didn’t have to make a six hour drive early in the morning. They had a game night, by they I mean the RAs that decided to volunteer over the summer also. Never did I imagine I’d spend the next three hours after settling in, with the nerdy girl who wore track pants and glasses. She stood a foot taller than me and had a deep voice I’d found intriguing from the beginning. Of course, nothing could happen; I wasn’t single or polyamorous. The queer nerds had to stick together, so it ended up being three of us. There was Leo, who was probably the most outgoing of us and a psychology nerd. Chrysanthemum of course, is a history and math nerd. Last is me, an art nerd. We hit it off all together while walking down to the lake and quickly learned that I was the only one who liked spiders. It was like that of the movies, the sun setting over the lake surrounded by people you love. Or perhaps they were just the people soon to be my classmates. We couldn’t be separated, so I brought some cards out to play a game, one I hadn’t heard of before. We played two rounds the three of us until Chrysanthemum needed her space, retreating to a worn chair. The three of us reminisced about applying for college and why we chose our school. It was all the simple things to get to know people. She was quiet and annoyingly hard to read. Chrysanthemum chuckled at the appropriate times while Leo and I went on a tangent about romance books. She seemed a little left out but we were both too excited to fully notice. We retreated to our respective rooms, of which I had my own, well after midnight. All too early into the morning, I woke up having to use the washroom and on my walk there I saw her. I loved seeing her in her sweet little pajama pants. They were normal pajama pants but they just seemed to look better on her and I wish I had said hi then.

Kurt perked up in his filthy cell as he heard screaming from what sounded like a young girl, and soon screaming from the men who caged him here. Soon, the girl came into sight being dragged by another man who tossed her into the cell next to Kurt. She screeched and thrashed and kicked and bit, making it unable to Kurt to see her face. The cell door closed and she continued to scream and chew on the bars. Kurt finally got a look at her face.

Her eyes were gone. Just… gone. Empty sockets with red scarring around them. She looked about his age. A friend.

“Hallo.” He greeted her in German. The girl panted and glanced over at the voice, noticing some heat coming from the boy. He expected her to flinch in horror but this girl was blind…

“…Hi.” She greeted in German.

“Those bars are strong.” The boy pointed with one of his three fingers, his tail tucked between his legs.

The girl nodded at him. Her blonde hair was long and matted. Her clothes were filthy with soot and some parts had been burned.

“…Are you a mutant?” Kurt asked. The girl looked at her hands and lit a small flame that quickly went out.

“Yeah… Are you?” She asked. Kurt giggled a bit and scooted closer to her cell. His tail slotted through the bars and he poked her, making the blind girl jump.

“What was that?” “My tail.” “You have a tail?” “I’m a mutant.”

The girl nodded and felt for the bars again. “…If I was stronger, I could melt these.” Kurt frowned and curled up tighter against himself.

“It’s not going to be possible, you know. We’re never going to leave this place.” The girl grunted in frustration and Kurt attempted to distract her from they’re current situation.

“…What’s your name?” “Madeline Koleman.” “Kurt Wagner.”

“…You’re wrong. We will get out of here. You’ll see.” Maddi felt for the bars again and slipped her arm through, reaching for Kurt’s hand. Her fingertips were black with soot and she had no nails. The young boy hesitated before he took her hand, knowing she’d notice his fingers, or lack there of. But Maddi only smiled.

“I’ll get stronger. And we’ll get out of here together. I promise, Kurt.”

His hand reaches for the cup, another reaches at the same time.

Fingers graze each other gently as they both retreat and give their apologies.

Then they laugh and turn to the barista to learn whose order it belongs to.

He smiles and recites the order.

They’ve ordered the same thing.

He tells him to take it, he tells him to take it.

The two men bicker until another order is produced.

They both take their cups and head over to a seat to begin a conversation and perhaps the rest of their lives.

The barista smirks to himself knowing what they do not, that he placed the shape of a heart atop the froth of their coffees.

Cupid’s gotta do something to pass the time whilst he waits another month for his big day.