Pinterest Writing Prompt

“I see the assassins have failed.”

This will never happen to me. I am too uninteresting and unimportant. I work a boring job. I read in my spare time or write what I think are funny stories. I go out with my friends and always end up the designated drive. My friends call me the ‘mother’ of the group. I used to think it of as an honor. Now I realize that it’s just because I’m safe. I don’t know. I don’t get much feedback on how to be a cooler person. The coolest part of my life? My other family members. Everyone else.

There will never be a moment when I know or hold something so precious that I am on someone else’s hit list. It’s utterly impossible.

And yet, I still dream that one day:

I walk into my favorite coffee shop (not like a Starbucks, god no). More like one of those retro or old style coffee shops where you can get your coffee in one of those cool mugs. It’s got a serene atmosphere. There are couples and young adults littered around the booths. I approach the counter and smile because I recognize the barista.

She smiles back at me as we share a moment. She hands me my coffee mug and points to the booth by the window. She’s been waiting for me to come in. She never speaks to me but I can tell that we have a thing going on. She always saves me the same seat.

I see that the daily news is on the table and the usual flower vase has been moved from the window. I appreciate the gesture but I don’t know why she does it.

I approach the booth, careful to not spill my latte. It has one of those strange illustrations on the top but I’m not sure what it says. I don’t really care.

A man in all black slides past me. We brush shoulders but all I can think about is not spilling my latte. I paid fucking five bucks for this. He leans in for the moment we’re in contact.

“I see the assassins have failed.”

I freeze. If that was directed to me, they must have been the worst assassins ever. I do the same routine thing everyday or sometimes I change it up and sit downstairs watching TV instead of my room. Good lord, how long had they been trying to get me?

And I should be terrified. I should have dropped the mug and run out the café without so much as looking back. I should scream or call for help.

But I don’t. I continue to my seat and place the mug down, glad to have accomplished my mission. The mug is safe and the design on top is still intact. I pull out my phone to take a picture. Because that’s what I do everyday.

My mind is still reeling from the thought that I have successfully evaded assassins. I’m a little cool. Although no one will ever know because no one will ever believe me. I change some of the options, putting a cool filter and saving it to my profile.

I attach it with a simple #today

I reach for the mug and glance out the window. The streets are a bit dreary and it looks like it’s going to rain. I feel like I’m in one of those movies where I’ve outrun everything and it’s near the end but I have nowhere to go. I’ve nothing else to do than just keep on living. I could kill myself and make everyone else lose hope for not completing the job.

But I’d get no satisfaction out of that.

Especially since I have no idea why I’m being targeted.

I take a deep breath but it turns out more like an exasperated sigh. I slurp up the foam off the top. It’s the best part of the latte. Especially since I don’t like coffee anyways. I just like the taste of milk and sugar. And this? This latte doesn’t have nearly enough sugar.

I slid out of my booth and head for the counter. The barista throws me a small smile again but this time it’s tight. I’m amused and curious but I don’t ask. She won’t talk to me anyway. I grab three packets of sugar and a stirring rod. I rethink my decision and grab a fourth. I don’t feel judged, just surprised that I never put on any weight.

The sound of shattering glass hits my ears.

I turn to see my cup in pieces, coffee strewn everyway. There’s a waterfall of milk pouring off the table where I would have been sitting. I should be angry, terrified, running. But all I can think of is defeat.

I turn back and the barista isn’t smiling anymore. She seems to be in shock as many of the customers are headed for the front door. I’m not sure why people do that. The bullet comes from outside, yet everyone runs outside. It seems like a stupid idea in retrospect.

But nobody thinks when fear is involved.

Now I’m angry.

I approach the barista, the sugar packets still in my hand. I crunch them and it just makes me angry. I take a deep breath to calm down and then stare her straight in the eye.

“Free refills?”

Walking around the store

You see the dress you want

You love

You desire

But

It’s a fucking size

Too small

You sigh

You didn’t have

The money anyway

But it’s so cute

You continue

Through the store

But you can’t escape

From the clutches

Of that outfit

It was everything

It was you

And you make

The terrible decision

To take it

To try it on

Ignoring the little voice in your head

Dumbass

You give in

You slip it over your head

And it’s tight

Just as you expected

But it’s so cute

And just so you

And you can’t say no

That bill that’s due in a few days

Will just have to wait

This could work

But now comes the hardest part

Parting with the dress

No, of course you’re going to buy it

But you have to get it off

In order to pay for it

You didn’t think about that

Did you?

There’s two ways

That this plays out in the movies

A mother helping her child

In a heartwarming scene

As she slips the shirt off the child

Readying him for bed

A sweet bonding moment

As she whispers

I’ll always be here for you

The other

A sexy frame in time

As you give in

Allowing him to see you

In the moonlight for the first time

Revealing your naked beauty

Because for some reason

Women in these movies

Don’t wear a bra

And you can’t tell…

He leans in for a kiss

And it warms your everything

Sadly,

You’re in neither of these situations

You’re alone

In a dressing room

Because you never

Really liked the idea of shopping

With other people

Let alone shopping at all

You can’t call for help

Because that’d be embarrassing

You should have never

Tried on the damn dress in the first place

I told you that

So you begin the

Tumultuous journey

Of wriggling out of it

And it’s over your head

Your hands stretched out

Almost there…

There’s a knock on the door

And you’re terrified

Stuck in one of the most

Compromising positions you’ve been in

Since your mother caught you

With your boyfriend at 16

Are you alright in there??

How are you supposed to

Answer that question?

You mumble a soft yes

Through the cloth of the one dress

That warmed your heart

Moments before

It’s the same feeling

You get when the waiter

Asks how your food is

While you’re still chewing

And it’s off

Finally.

You’re never going to do that again

Well… at least until next time

And before you ask,

No, I’m not sure why’d you think

I’ve ever been in that situation