Everything.

Amanda was insufferable

Was it easy? Dealing with Amanda the hours following the Meet-and-Greet?

There is only one possible answer on this earth, and it is no. No, it was not. She gossiped the entire drive back to my apartment. I listened, nodding and carefully hanging onto ever detail, understanding only vaugely the shock she must be going through. The closest I'd ever come to meeting my idols, was standing in the back row of a magical Green Day concert, and the hang-over shock you experience after a concert is a little hard to overcome.

Amanda groaned, her hand twitched, but she didn't stir. The time is currently, 3:46, she pass out seven minutes ago... Thank God, I wasn't sure how much more I could handle her saying "Oooh, his hands were so soft, I think he wanted to kiss me!" or "Maybe he'll search Atlanta trying to find me because he thought I was awesome." I nodded and agreed, happy she had fantasies, but when she had to repeat them every seven seconds, it gets old... Fast.

I yawned and stretched out my legs, Carl curled in a ball beside me, Thomas on my stomach while I channel surf. I should be asleep, but truth is, I can't. Something in me is wide awake while my body fights consciousness. Norman, the weird dude actor who works at The Walking Dead. Who is close friends with everyone else, but very normal up close, had a weird familarity about him, I tried to ignore it, but for the most part it was undeniable. Something about him was familiar, I just couldn't place it.

I knew already, it'd be a long, long week.

~~~

I leaned over the front counter at Whirlie's the next morning. Drinking bitter coffee from the break room in back slowly, I was in no hurry, I didn't really have much responsibility here, anyways. Watching people come and go, washing stinking blobs of fabric and go, I didn't have a very engaging job, I just watched to make sure no one stole anything.

"You can go on break now, Rebecca." Mr. Unise told me as he passed with a coffee cup identical to mine.

"Thanks." I smiled at him, but exhaustiong just tugged at the muscles in my face. I rose from the counter and went to the break room to concoct something instead of making the trek up to my apartment.

I was so tired. I yawned again as I made a sandwich, wishing I had Amanda right there to entertain me for a while, even fangirl about Steven. She was attending her summer collage courses right now.

"Reeeeeebecca!"

I groaned and resisted dropping my face into my place. "What?" I groaned. It wasn't Amanda, and it was too cheerful to be Mr. Unise. It was Janet.

"Could you do something for me?" She asked cheerfully, pearching on the edge of my table, making it almost topple over. She was a skinny thing with thick hipbones, her bell bottoms hugged for dear life around them. I looked up at her and sighed. "That really just depends on what you want."

"There's a guy out there I need your help with." She replied, something suspicious flashed in her eyes. I narrowed at mine. "I'm sure your customer service skills are just fine, don't you?" I ask sarcastically. Janet had a key talent, and it was picking up whatever man she wanted on the weekends.

"That's the problem, he won't notice or talk to me, just be a distraction or something, I don't care." She waved her hand flippantly. I stared at her. "I'm helping you get laid? No thanks..."

"Why? I'm always there for you."

"You've never been there for me." I reminded her, "And I'd rather not be apart of your games. You seem to be good enough at playing to do it on your own."

"Oh, please?" She begged, getting desperate. "Just come out and read him for me, get an idea about him, you seem to be less threatening in the beauty department, anyways." She flipped her long blonde hair over one shoulder impatiently. It took me a moment to realize she'd just called me ugly.

"Hey!" I exclaimed. She smiled apologetically.

"Fine." I growled, getting her face and lowering my voice. "I help you this one time, and you never ask for another favor, deal?"

She became thoughtful for a moment then nodded. "Deal. This guy's a steal." I rolled my eyes and pretended I didn't hear her comment. I dumped the remander of my food in the trash and quickly washed my dishes and headed out front. "Fine... Which one is he?" I whispered. I searched the floor of the laundromat, there were several people milling about, dumping fabric softener sheets into their loads, patiently watching the water swirl and such.

She pointed to the left side of the room, washer 11. "That's him." She smiled alluringly in his direction, even though he wasn't facing us. Some guy with faded denims, work boots and a charcoal grey hoodie, tossing wads of fabric into a washer.

"He's just some guy, really, Janet, why him of all-" I stopped myself, and he turned. Black Ray Bans, hood pulled around his sculpted face, the familiar, yet foreign, face of Mark.

"What?" Janet demanded, annoyed that there was a silent moment passing between us as our eyes met. His hidden behind the glasses he never took off.

"Uhh..." I wasn't sure rather to play it up and say I knew him, or ignore him and help Janet. For some reason, the thought of Janet with Mark sent a surge of jealousy down my spine. I shook it off and recovered. "Oh, I've seen him in here before." I forced the words out of my mouth. "He likes Sonic Youth, try that on him." I said it and walked away, hearing her call after me, "What the hell is Sonic Youth?"

I kept walking, kept ignoring. Warmth built up under the skin of my cheeks as I took my place behind the counter again, ringing up a bill for an elderly man a few moments later. I watched Janet carefully, with jealousy narrowed eyes.

It's ridiculous, I reminded myself as I punched in numbers on the register. I only know of him, I don't know him. If she wants him, she can have him, and I can laugh and thumb my nose, singing single pringle all night long. I chuckled to myself and realized why I was still alone, my thoughts were so bizarre, it's no wonder no one ventures close enough to get inside of it, they'd get lost. My thoughts were never logical, just rational... And weird, don't forget weird.

Mark looked up at me and met my eyes from time to time. Janet was pearched on the washer beside him, banging her heels against the metal, probably prattling some life story off that he wasn't actually listening to. He nodded every now and again, but I noticed he didn't ask her questions or contribute to the conversation.

I turned up the radio to get my mind off of it. And I exclaimed at the song, dropping the roll of quarters I held on my toe.

"Holy cr- Ouch!" I rubbed my big toe, recovering and appreciating the song. "I thought I'd never hear this one on the radio again!" I cried in surprise, probably scaring a few people. I beamed and began to sing, which wasn't out of the ordinary for me, but it's a little creepy when someone randomly starts to sing.



I happy-danced, and Janet brushed past me on the way to the break room, sharply tugging my elbow. "Ouch!" I muttered, glaring at her, my mood destroyed. I followed her anyways.

"Well, you failed." She groaned when we were alone, jabbing me with her index finger. "He was smirking at you the entire time, I don't think he even glanced my way." She shook her head in disgust. "I thought we had a deal!" She threw her hands up like an irratated child.

I stared blankly at her. "We did. I told you what he liked, that's all I knew. I wasn't going to interrogate him for you or set him off down your skanky trail, so get off my fucking back." I growled, becoming more annoyed by the seconds, surprised by some of the reasons. It was jealousy and anger on a different level than I'd ever been on.

Her face turned beet red and she balled up her hands into fists, looking ready to do something rash, probably to my face. "I am not a skank!" She spit out in defense. "I enjoy a bit of fun here and there, but I would never-"

"You've slept with just about every male worker here!" I exclaimed, aware I was overstepping bounderies, and anything she did to me now, I deserved. "You flirt with every willing and able man who walks through those doors, and now you're pissed at me because you couldn't get into the pants of this guy!?"

Fury flashed in her eyes, but she didn't lash out, not yet. I had a feeling, though, that her dangerously long and sharp neon pink painted nails could do a number on my face. "That's not why I was after him!" Her voice was defensive and low again, "I decided I was over one-night stands, I wanted something real, and I decided it was going to start with him."

"Was that a two sided agreement?" I demanded, thinking about Mark actually being with Janet... For longer than one night. "Did he actually agree to any of your fantasies? Give it a rest, Janet, you're as fake as you look."

And boom. There is was, the climax of the argument, the release of pent up anger, stupidity and the shames of being a tempered blonde. She lashed out.

Of course, I didn't stop there, or pathetically hold my cheek with a wounded, accusing expression, I felt the sting on my skin, felt the welt forming, I felt my blood boiling under my skin, forming the outline of her hand into my flesh. "Oooh," I waved my hands dramatically, "There it is, the key of a healthy relationship. You can't even keep your violent hands off your coworker." I rolled my eyes, not giving her a chance to reply. "Just- just stuff it up your ass, Janet, I don't need to hear about how bad I fucked up your future love life. I have work to do." I brushed past her and returned to the counter. Anger, embarrassment and many other confusing things picked away at my careful, calm mask.

"Dear heavens! What happened to your face?" Mr. Unise demanded, a horrified look in place. I groaned. "I really don't want to talk about it right now."

"Is... Is that a slap mark? Did someone slap you?"

"Yeah, our very own, fabulous Janet. Look, I'm okay, I just need to get my mind off it." I looked him in the eyes for a moment to be sincere, I felt like punching a wall right now, to be honest.

"Ah..." He paused, unsure rather to fight me on it. "At least... At least put some ice on it. If you need to take the day off, just let me know. I'm sorry this happened, I'll talk to Janet later."

I watched him walk away, then faced the register again, a hand was extended, holding one of the pieces of stationary we provided to fill out your bill when you washed your clothes here. I didn't notice much else other than the simple, small tattoo on the back of the hand, they turned it over so quickly, I couldn't decide if it had been a small black heart, or a star.

I glanced up, dark Ray Bans and this time, dark brown, messed up hair pressed under a baseball cap with a logo. He smirked, but it faded quickly as we locked eyes.

"Rebecca, right?" He asked, his voice the same as before, I commited it to memory, so I couldn't think this was a dream like last time. I nodded, "Yeah."

"What happened?" He reached up to brush away a strand of hair to get a better look at the probably gruesome sight on my cheek, I reared back involuntarily. "Sorry..." He murmured, dropping his hand back to his side, but he proceeded to stare at my face shamelessly.

"Oh... Just some... Dramatic girl fight. You missed out." I cracked, but smiling hurt my face.

He smirked, and seemed a little more at ease, but remained in a tense pose, studying me from behind the thick, black lens of his sunglasses.

"Okay, here, I'll ring you up and you can run as far from this drama trap as you can." I snickered, taking the ticket from his hand, careful not to make skin contact. He frowned instead of laughing, like I had intended.

"I don't mind it here."

"You should." I say before I think it over. "I mean, it's no tourist trap, if that's what you're thinking."

"Do you enjoy working here?"

His question caught me offguard. No one had ever asked me outright if I enjoyed my crappy job. Amanda already knew, but no one else did. They asked about work, and my automated response was 'it pays my rent and keeps me fed, I'm in no position to whine.'

"Well... Most days, I do." I admitted. There were some days that working in this little laundromat that stunk of lavender dryer sheets wasn't so bad, some days I laughed and enjoyed hanging around my coworkers. There were also some days I couldn't wait to get upstairs and be alone, sitting on the patio chair on my small balcony, appreciating Atlanta's city lights, and the stars above.

"And that entitles... What?" He cocked his head a little. I wasn't sure what else there was to add. "It entitles I enjoy my job some days, like everyone else. I have golden days, and I have shitty days."

"And this happens to be a shitty day?" Mark guessed.

"For the most part, yes." I blushed, realizing at once why it hadn't been absolutely terrible. I had seen him again, the only person who was a guy, who had fully gotten me since I'd moved to Atlanta. Who didn't write me off after I said something ridiculous and retarded.

I was relieved he didn't pressure the pros and cons of my job anymore. He didn't talk again, really. He just commented on the weather, and I noticed he was wearing the toasty charcoal grey sweatshirt on a hot, humid day. I didn't comment on his wardrobe, though.

I wished him a good day and handed him back a copy of his ticket, he exchanged the same words, giving me a warm smile before ducking out the door into the sunlight. Was I overjoyed? Retarded? A fucking sap for good old fashioned stories? Yes, probably. I smiled for a while following that, I didn't feel like absolute crap like I had before, as though a little sun had broken through the clouds above.