Allison. He shakes her hand, looking into her eyes. Uhm… Right. Nice to meet you. She looks at him confused. Well? What’s your name? He lets go of her hand and laughs nervously. Jack, my name is Jack. She starts laughing. Like which Jack? Sparrow? Napier? Or the one from Titanic? Taken aback by her question he sits down and looks at her with embarrassment. She starts laughing hysterically. Really? From Titanic? How hilarious. So, you’re twenty too? And I don’t mean the number, obviously. He nods. And what are you working? She asks. Articles for whatever website accepts submissions. She quickly interrupts him. Oh, so you want to be a journalist or just create stuff like shitty clickbait articles? He laughs at her question. Neither. I want to write. But, writing doesn’t pay. No, what I mean is that finding a normal job as a writer is basically fiction or just as probable as winning the lottery. She looks at him with a kind face.
Let’s dance, she says. What? You’re twenty, I’m twenty. What’s wrong? He looks away from her as he scratches his brow. Fine, she says. It feels like this whole adulting thing was a mistake. Do you ever wonder why you were born? What were you born to do? Ah, what am I talking about, of course you don’t. You already know why you were born. To be a writer. Silence slowly sets between them. As they both look anywhere but at each other. She takes another gulp from the wine bottle, then extends her arm with the bottle towards him. He pushes he hand gently back, she shrugs and drinks some more. I don’t. She turns towards him. I don’t know why I was born. I don’t know what I am doing. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do it. Or if what I am doing is right. She groans. Well, now I can’t think that you’re a cool guy, if you don’t know the answer to this. She starts laughing, as he sits there looking at her.
Well, Jack from Titanic, it was nice to meet you, but I’m getting sleepy and unless you want to bone, I suggest that you go back to your place and get some sleep, she says bemused. He looks at her wondering if what she said was for real. Uhm… She turns towards him, puts her hands on the armrests. Looks him in the eyes. What? She whispers with a breath of alcoholic grapes expelled right into his nose. I think I’m going to leave. It was nice to meet you, Allison. She gets up, and starts to scream. Why are you like this? Man, what’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with everyone? Doesn’t anyone know how to have fun anymore? What is even the fucking point of all of this if we can’t live properly? Love properly, fuck properly, live life to the fullest. She continues to ramble, as he sits there listening, unsure of when it is okay to actually leave. And here I am with a total stranger in my apartment, and he doesn’t have the balls to kiss me. As she says that, he gets up and…
If you liked this chapter of the short story series I Write Sins… And if you did, please like it, share it and if you’d like to keep these short stories free you can always donate at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO