Post by Hannah A. Hunt on Nov 9, 2015 22:37:53 GMT -6
”Miss, may I help you?”
Hannah could remember when she was fourteen and she would gush over letters that had been postmarked Louisiana and penned out in curlicue homeschooled cursive with eyes dotted as flowers and charming ringed coffee stains seeped into the speckled recycled stationary. It wasn’t such a strange image in her mind now, picturing Aimee curled up in the corner of Brown’s Cafe with her girlish latte and chunky oversized sweater listening to Death Cab for Cutie or whatever the a la mode indie pop group of the 2010’s had been writing in her moleskin journal with her pink gel pens. Hannah had, at one point, wanted that vision so very desperately for herself. Envy had been a visceral reaction for Hannah. She couldn’t pretend she was anything but jealous of, well, everyone outside her little hick town.
But as she gazed up at the in vogue revival style typography of the Brown’s menu she hated it all with such ardor. Foreign words like macchiato and cappuccino and saffron kale super juice burned into her eyeballs with such gusto because like any other irrational creature, Hannah hated the shit she didn’t understand. All she wanted was a goddamn black coffee so hot that it would singe her tastebuds numb and make the corners of her eyes water. She could feel the judgment of half a dozen strange gazes burn into the back of her skull as they stood behind her in the queue. Dark eyes pendulummed across the board with uncertainty. Her sweaty fist tightened around the meager wad of guilty dollar bills that had been pick pocketed from an unsuspecting elderly woman in the park earlier that morning.
”Miss, if you’re not going to buy anything you have to leave. You’re upsetting the customers.”
Her stunned expression lowered onto the barista who was a girl who had to have been close to her own age. Brunette, blue eyes, slight frame and a tired yet annoyed expression that proved to be consistent with the faces of service industry workers across America.
“Upsetting the customers,” Hannah repeated flatly, not entirely uncertain of what her words meant.
"We don't give out handouts. If you don't leave we'll call the police. Can I have the next customer in line please?"
"Excuse me. I have money. Look-" Hannah's stiff reply was prompt but not without an acerbic edge of insult. Creeping up her collarbones she could feel a prickly heat that traipsed up to the lobes of her ears. Hands that were once sweaty now emanated warmth not unlike the arid wastelands of her hometown in Texas. She should have known better than to raise her arm, now fully engulfed by a flame that licked up from her elbow and blackened the cafe's ceiling and ate away at the jacket she wore. Taken aback she unfurled her fingers from around the crumpled fist full of money, which withered away in the heat almost immediately. Hannah, however, took little notice of this. The moment her fingers had spread open her palm a surge of inferno had shot out towards the barista much to her horror, setting the girls hair and clothing ablaze.
Shortly thereafter a storewide panic ensued between staff and customers alike as many rushed to aid the victim of Hannah's carelessness. She took the opportunity of mass frenzy to make a hurried exit. No one stopped her, clearly too unnerved to blockade a girl who had just spontaneously combusted.
Hit with the sudden sickening feeling of dizzying vertigo Hannah doubled over in the alleyway she had hastily ducked into. Steadying herself on the cool brick she fought back the somersaults in her stomach and let out a choked whine before sinking to the floor in a crumpled mess of self-contempt.
"Fucking hell Hannah," she hissed aloud.
"Fucking hell Hannah," she hissed aloud.
Notes; It's short and not great sry ilu tho i promise I'll be better next time idk how to write anymore