It's Worse Than You Think

I set my brush down for a moment so that I could take another proper look into the city. I probably did too many paintings of the buildings that surrounded me, but I couldn’t help it. You’d think I’d have the Goddamn place memorized, but I don’t. I wanted to finish it, but when I glanced at the clock I realized that it was time to meet Finn at our regular place. Bridgeport Coffeehouse, easily one of my favourite places in the world, was only about ten minutes away from where I lived. And that’s right in the center of the city.

My best friend Finn has worked at that place for ages. I’ve known him for a few years: we met at some art show that I was involved in when I was first getting started. To be honest, I thought he was really attractive when I met him, much to his amusement now. But now, he’s simply my best friend and I’d be lost without him. He’s all I have, and that doesn't even bother me anymore.

Hastily, I tossed my brushes into a cup of water, and walked over to my kitchen counter so I could set the canvas down on it. With a small excited smile on my face due to the idea of seeing Finn, I sauntered over to the mirror I had hanging up in the hallway. Raking my eyes over my skinny jeans and dark blue cardigan, I decided that I looked somewhat decent to be seen out in public.

I locked the door behind me, and quickly headed out of the complex and onto the street. I placed a cigarette loosely between my lips, and cupped my hand around my mouth while lighting it. I hate that I’ve picked up the smoking habit, because I remember when I was younger I always swore I’d never become addicted to these cancer sticks. But after what happened to my parents, I needed something to lose myself in. Something I could rely on.

The black box flashed ‘walk’ and I crossed the street, the coffee shop soon coming into sight. I looked around the city momentarily, the city I’ve grown up in. I couldn’t imagine leaving this place, ever. I’ve never even left the state of Illinois before, because there’s never really been a point.

With one last drag of my cigarette, I stomped it out with my foot and tossed it into a nearby trashcan; entering the business. The bell rang as I walked through the door, making me feel extremely awkward when all eyes landed on me. I really should be used to it by now, but like always, my cheeks flushed and I kept my eyes ahead.

I saw Finn immediately, noticing he still had his name tag on. “Hey Zeke,” he greeted upon seeing me, offering me a grin, “Give me a few minutes, my shift’s almost over.”

I nodded, sitting down at my favourite spot: the worn down couch near the back. Not five minutes later, Finn plopped down next to me and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Long morning?”

He rolled his eyes, “Oh Zeke. Such an understatement. I’ve been here since four thirty this morning, and haven’t had a chance to take a break,” he told me, running a hand through his short brown hair, ruffling it up slightly.

“Well,” I began, feeling a little guilty, “Are you sure you always want to meet here?”

“Why?”

“We don’t have to come here every day if you don’t want to. You probably want to get as far away from here as you can.”

“I know I complain,” he paused to chuckle at the expression on my face, “But really, I love what I do.”

I nodded slowly, “So, besides this morning, how have you been?”

He shrugged, his lips turning into an odd pout. “I’ve been alright. Kind of routine, lately. Max is still a douche bag, and seeing you is the best part of my day.”

I smiled shyly at his comment, “I know what you mean.”

“What are you talking about? You have your art, you have your job, you have me and . . . That’s all I can think of right now. But your art! That’s not routine, that’s like a Goddamn career path.”

I bit my lip, scanning my brain for something to cheer him up. “What about your writing?”

“Screw you,” he grinned.

“It was good. I swear.”

“Yeah, whatever. Besides, I’m 79% sure that I’m over exaggerating right now, so don’t really take me seriously.”

I laughed, and we spent the next half hour talking about random things. After a few seconds of silence, Finn broke it suddenly, smirking. “So.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, a suspicious expression on my face. “What?”

He leaned forward, “You sure have been single for a long time.”

I wrinkled my nose, “What? Where is this even coming from?”

He ignored me, continuing with a grin like I’d never interrupted him. “You need to get laid! If your art is distracting you from actually having a boyfriend and being happy with someone-”

“Finn,” I groaned in protest, “I’m perfectly fine. You act like I’ve been single for ages.”

He raised an eyebrow, “You have been single for ages.”

I frowned, thinking for a moment. “Yeah, and that’s perfectly fine, isn’t it? Wait, this isn’t some clever way of you asking me out, is it?” I teased.

“Damn it, I didn't know you were onto me. I’m in love with you, Zeke. Being your best friend will never be enough!”

Laughing, I shook my head. “I should probably get going. Quimby’s opens in like five minutes.”

“Right. Quimby’s, you better get going. I’ll see you later,” he smiled, and I waved lamely before heading outside.

Quimby’s. The Godforsaken bookstore that I work in part time. I want to go places with my art, but it’s not happening now and I need the money. When did money start becoming more important then my own happiness? I really want to know.