Jane Doe

Cain was an interesting sort. He talked with a romantic flair, especially when he talked to me. I heard him talk to some of the other customers at our restaurant and he talked so strangely. He had strange eyes. The kind where I couldn’t place what color they were. His hair was multidimensional in color. Blond, hints of coppery red, dark brown towards the back of his neck. He was beautiful to look at and oftentimes, I found myself staring at him from behind the cash register.

I was hurt though. There was something in the way he talked to me that made my insides turn a mill. Cain made me want to cry. There was some sort of admiration in his indescribable eyes. It hurt me to think that he could only see what he wanted to see.

Thursday afternoon and 4:21, Cain walked in wearing his usual soft leather jacket with the fuzzy white wool on the collar.

Hi. He said to me. His voice was soft and shaking. Admiration.

I nodded. What can I get for you?

Does Alex tell you that you’re beautiful?

I swallowed. That’s not on the menu, Cain. What do you want?[.i]

An answer to my question.

The bells on the door jingled and standing in the doorway, clad in black, stood Alex. His hair was damp and stuck to his face. His hands were in the pockets of his leather jacket. He tilted his head in my direction. I’ll give you a few more minutes with the menu.

Alex slid an arm around my waist and kissed me quickly. He botherin’ you?

I shook my head. I should have realized what he was doing. I should have realized that he was unraveling me, thread by thread.