|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Bullet To The Chest - PrologueWHEN you find out that you like someone and they almost die, you feel closer to them than never before. I know that this is true because a man that I liked almost died. When someone ask about my past I just say, "Bullet To The Chest". Nobody gets why I say it. Pain was one of them. But the rest is so hard to word. This is my story.
I WAS 18, just you normal every day teenager. I did your normal teenage thing; I was like any other teen on the street. I got a message that one Thursday. I really felt that it was a joke saying that the letter would kidnap me. The scrawled handwriting was nice written. Everything suddenly changed…. it was Saturday, March 20th. I woke up to a frightful noise at the door. I slipped on my jean and button up black satin shirt over my tank top. I looked through the blinds of the door and opened it.
"We are looking for Ms. Nemia." a man said with a boy wearing a black drench coat on.
"I'm Nemia. How may I help you?"
"Your time is up; you haven't
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.
Keep in Touch!