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Ib - Remembered Portrait Ch 1
I didn't realize how much time has actually passes by
The only motive that I had here was to get us out of here alive. But now us was not part of the plan anymore.
Mary stood there holding a crimson red rose, Ib's crimson red rose. And a simple line would change everything, a simple action could change everything.
"But, I do like blue better." She said ginning. Ib said nothing, for I know what she wanted. This fake girl wanted my rose. And the way she twirled Ib's rose around carelessly waiting for an answer. Ib's eyes widened with every twirl she made.
I pushed you aside as I handed her my sapphire rose. "I'll give you mine if you give me Ib's." Her face lightened, she got the answer she wanted, she was going to get what she had planned to get.
"Oh,Really?? Thank you." After we exchanged roses, she gave a twisted smile and went off running. The way she held the rose made me feel week already.
"Here you go Ib." I turned to her with a bright smile and handed her, her rose.
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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