Will She?

IV. Will She Come?

Dakota finished his story and gently rubbed his palms on the table as if flattening it. 

May nodded her head slowly.  “So, you’re waiting for Cheyenne with no last name to come through those doors in,” she looked at the clock, “five minutes?”

He swallowed. “Yes, yes I am. I mean, she will come. She will, I can feel it.”

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Will She?

II. Dakota and Cheyenne’s Meet Cute

I was working at the Tech Team counter at the department store You Got It. As usual, it was a rather slow afternoon. Most people fancy themselves IT experts. At least, they use YouTube to fix their problems until their problems get away from them. That’s when they come calling.

It was one of those days where the minutes felt like hours and the hours felt like days. I could hardly wait for my shift to end. About five minutes before I clocked out she walked in. Actually, that’s not accurate. She more like tumbled in with her arms full carrying her laptop. I watched as she made her way to my counter and set her computer down. All she said was, “Fix it.”

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Will She?

I. Waiting

            “Can I help you with anything?” the young clerk asked while wiping her hands on her apron.

“No, thank you,” he replied glancing at her for a moment then turning his gaze toward the door.

“Look, be honest,” the clerk continued while clearing cups off the table next to him, “are you casing this place or something?”

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The HUB: The Next Morning


The next morning I dropped my rent payment in my landlady’s mail slot on my way to work.  It was still dark out and the temperature dipped below freezing.  I pulled my coat tighter around me but it didn’t help with the chill.

I walked to the bus stop and waited.  The normal crowd gathered waiting for the bus.  A few of the others searched eyes of fellow passengers looking for understanding from last night’s events.  So I wasn’t the only one affected.  But one thing I learned in my years working in the mines is not to communicate anything.  I dropped my head and kept my eyes to the ground to prevent anyone reading or misreading my eyes.  No story here. Continue reading

The HUB: Processing


I arrived home an hour after my normal time.  This threw my routine off and left me feeling a little angry.  With each passing day I was fortunate to grow older I relied more on routine like an anchor.

My landlady peeked out of her apartment when she heard me coming up the stairs.  “Rent’s due,” she croaked. Continue reading

The HUB: The Bus Ride Home


We sat in silence.

Of course we sat in silence.  On the bus ride home there was always silence.  Even though we sat in clusters of departments in the HUB.  In the front sat the chemists.  They mostly kept their noses face down at their screens.  Presumably still working.  In the middle sat the office workers.  If there was occasional chit chat it came from this group.  Usually from new hires.  Soon enough they learned it’s best to keep quiet.  They also kept their noses face down looking at their screens.  Presumably they communicated with their families outside the gates.  In the back of the bus sat the miners.  That was my group.  We avoided anything with lights and just kept our noses down and usually our eyes shut.  At least, most of the miners did.  I sat by myself and stretched out on the seat so that I could look out the window. Continue reading

The Choice

Ethel sipped her coffee. She was amazed how much of a difference a spoonful of sugar made. Up until three months ago, she had always taken her coffee black – no sugar. It was just how she had learned to drink coffee. Her coffee drinking habits weren’t the only thing that had changed. It all started when Edward came into her life.

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Off to Krista’s Game!


“C’mon!” I yelled as I peeked my head into the kitchen doorway. “Time to go.” The only response I heard was the sound of shuffling as my two sisters, my brother, and my parents finished getting ready.

I closed the kitchen door and trudged across the garage to our van. “They’re gonna make me late, again,” I mumbled to myself. I slid the door to the van open hard and it shut again. “Dumb door.” I slid the door open again and climbed into the very back seat. I hit my right fist into my mitt and the hits became increasingly harder as I waited.

“C’mon,” I mumbled to the empty car, “I know my game doesn’t start for another hour, but I want to get there and practice hitting with my coach.”

I heard the kitchen door shut and quickly looked across the garage. But my younger brother, Trey, walked across the garage by himself.

“Hi Krista,” he said in his normal cheerful tone as he slid the van door open.

“Hi Trey,” I growled. “Anybody else comin’?”

“Just me, Nic’s still getting ready,” he climbed into the van and sat in the middle seat in front of me.

I rolled my eyes. It’s just my game, I thought, who’s she planning on seeing?

“Are you gonna hit the ball today?” Trey asked as he fastened his seat belt.

I glared at the back of his head. “What do you think?”

“Well, you don’t always swing the bat.”

“It’s hard for me to tell what’s in my strike zone,” I said defending myself. “Coach Jerry says it’s because my zone is smaller than others.” I thought I had overheard my coach mention something like that to someone.   “So, sometimes it’s better to take my chances and try and walk.” I added my own conclusion.

“It’s because you’re puny, huh?”

“You wanna say that again?”

“What’s wrong with puny? It means small.”

“It means weak, Trey. I can still take you down, you know.” It was true, I could still pin him when we wrestled. The trouble was, he was now an inch taller than me and outweighed me by a few pounds.

“I know, “ he replied but then mumbled, “but sometimes I win.”

The kitchen door closed again and I looked over to see the rest of my family heading


toward the van.

“Finally,” I said.

Mom and dad climbed in the front seats, Jordyn sat next to Trey, and Nicole climbed in back with me.

“Did you get your hair just right?” I asked as sarcastically as I could.

“Oh,” she said innocently, “were you waiting for me?”

Good thing you’re not Trey or Jo, I thought as I looked out the window, because you would be in a headlock right now.

Dad pulled the van out of the garage. “Where are we going again?” He asked.

“Dad,” I said making it sound like two syllables.

“Oh yeah,” he said, “we’re off to Krista’s Game.”