Dinner and a Not Date
When not looking at all finds something special
Her hand moved out from underneath the layers of blankets and sheets that covered her from head to toe. Then, stretching her long, slender fingers to the side table, Kiersten blindly searched for the blaring smartphone — it was Monday morning, and it sucked already.
Feeling heavy with despair and barren of energy after silencing the alarm, she let her hand hang off the side of the bed, dangling like a dying flower. Then, blinking away the blurry fog of sleep, she peered out the bottom of her window, her mood sinking even lower seeing the water droplets beading against the pane.
“Of course, it’s raining,” she said to the empty room, “Why wouldn’t it be raining! Stupid weekend, a waste of my time. Honestly, could I possibly have worse choices in men?”
Her body flushed with emotion. Frustration. Pain. Disappointment. That ache was back. She had let her heart get broken again.
Swinging her long legs out of bed, she sat up, raised her arms above her head, laced her fingers, and uncurled them towards the ceiling. Then, rolling her shoulders up and back, she dropped her arms and rotated her chin from side to side.
She peered down at the floor beneath her bare feet as she always had. She waited, willing it to…
