There was only one thing that would bring me back from my zombie-like state, and that was a very large cup of coffee. Once Crimson had left my apartment, I'd spent a while pretending to clean up, moving shit from one spot it didnt belong to another. When the empty silence had become too much, I'd grabbed a cigarette and left, because when something wasnt in sight it was easy to forget it existed. Mostly.
And so I had wound up in Enlighten, which might have been a bit above me. But that was the thing about coffee shops. Even in ancient times they had been a sort of sanctuary for anyone who happened to stop in. So many people all brought together by one thing.
I put in my order- large hazelnut cappucino- and stood idly by the counter waiting. I tried not to shake or twitch or do any of the things that the coke monster in my brain wanted me to do. I tried to act normal.
One nice thing about New York City was that people knew their place. Everyone kept their head down, minded their business, and avoided the shadows. Since the shadows were my native home, I was pretty well protected. My coffee was finished, lidded, and passed to me. I took a seat at one of the high rise tables that littered the floor of the shop like islands in a sea of diversity.
Time passed liek it always did for me; slow seconds were strung together into minutes that somehow slipped away so easily. Mostly I watched as people came in and out, grateful no one I knew was around. I wasnt exactly well-liked in the streets. My childish hope still deemed me invincible.
Just when the thought of leaving was on my mind, the door swung open again, and in strode a skinny girl with silky curls and a permanent pout. I dug my nails into my palm, desperate for a distraction, or a way to prove she wasnt really there.
She was, of course, thougt she didnt seem to be aware of me. I openly watched her order her coffee, something sickly sweet I was certain. Then she turned, like an angel even though I knew better, and I was suddenly longing for water and air and to be anywhere but there.
When our eyes met, steely grey to a bright blue not so unlike the sky, her mouth curved into a sneer. I knew it was done then, and my hope of reconciliation with her was lost.
She didnt need me to invite her over. With her coffee cup in hand, she strut across the floor like she owned the place, or maybe just the street irself, and plopped down across from me.
"Trevor." One word. My heart was pounding.
"Trinity," I returned, hoping I sounded as cold. I tried to come up with some clever phrase that might somehow cut through her diamond-hard shell, but in the end I only said, "What's up?"
She sighed a little, pushed her hair back and took a tiny sip from the steaming cup. "Headache," she laughed. It was like music. Not the kind that made a person smike fondly; more so the kind that sailors crashing into rocks. "I'm hoping to go meet up with Crimson."
I knew what she was doing by bringing him up. It was a reminder. She belonged to him. And I was alone. Drive it home, bitch, I thought bitterly. When, in the back of my mind, I could still imagine exactly how her skin smelled, and how her eyes shone in the dark.
"Well," I said, my voice suddenly turning short and harsh. "Tell him I said hello." There. Calm and civil.
Trinity dared to smile at me. "I will." Then, lifting her cup and adjusting the hem of her shirt, she added, "Take care. You're not looking so well." And she was gone.