pressed a round button at the center of the object, causing it to buzz rather annoyingly.
“That’s a taser,” I said. “Why do you have a taser?”
“Why do you have a purse?” He asked this question like it made absolute sense, and I stared at him, not believing that he was for real.
“What?” I asked, confused.
Pressing the button at the center of the taser, the vibration stopped, as he placed it in my hand, curling my finger over the machine.
“If I try anything, and I mean anything, feel free to tase away,” he said. “Oh, and you could sue me for millions as well. My sexual advances would work only to your favor, sweetheart. But give me just ten minutes to explain something to you. Ten minutes, and not a second longer! I swear on my boy scouts honor.”
The taser was cool against my palms, as I placed it within my purse, staring at him in amazement, my brows raised.
“Follow me,” I said.
He smiled, his teeth shining like a new penny, glimmering against the light of the aqua sky.
He loved to touch things.
Once inside my apartment, his hands traced over the cream wall, his long fingers tapping against the tall shoe rack at the side of the door. His eyes traced over the small space of my room, and as I placed my purse on the soft brown couch, his gaze landed on mine.
“Aren’t you worried I’ll attack you?” he asked. “The taser is in your bag and all, but it’s not near you. That’s not safe—“
“I’m not worth your time,” I said, sitting on the couch, my legs slightly parted. “If you do manage to kill me, you’ll end up either in jail, or dead yourself. My best friend is in the other room, sleeping most likely, and if she found my dead body, she’ll come after you. Unlike my wimpy slaps, she carries a mean punch.”
He smiled, walking towards the couch, and sitting beside me, a bit too close for comfort. I shot him an annoyed glance, and moved to the end of the couch. Crouching down, I removed my white flip flops, placing them before me. The warm blue carpet soaked under my feet, as I placed my hands on my knees, the fabric of my jeans pressed against my palms. The small, square TV against the wall was still on, and as he looked around the apartment, I grabbed the remote from the coffee table before me, pressing the TV off. The lull of music videos ceased, as I exhaled a deep breath, wondering what I’d gotten myself into by inviting this stranger into my apartment, and possibly, into my life.
“So this is how the poor live, huh?” He sounded genuinely curious, and it surprised me.
I didn’t know what to say, so I simply waited till he began to give his explanation of whatever he so desperately needed to talk about. As he stared around the small space of my room, at the picture frames of me and my parents, and a few friends from long ago, I took that moment to observe him.
There was a childlike fascination in the depth of his golden brown eyes, and I wondered whether I had judged him wrong. When I noticed the patch of red along his cheek, a pang of guilt sunk through my chest, as I bit my lip.
“Wait here,” I told him.
He nodded, continuing to stare around the room, as I got up, and headed to the kitchen just a few feet away. Opening the fridge, I took out a small ice pack, before closing the white door. Walking over to the sink, I unrolled a layer of paper towel beside the counter, wrapping it over the ice pack, and striding back towards the couch.
His
“That’s a taser,” I said. “Why do you have a taser?”
“Why do you have a purse?” He asked this question like it made absolute sense, and I stared at him, not believing that he was for real.
“What?” I asked, confused.
Pressing the button at the center of the taser, the vibration stopped, as he placed it in my hand, curling my finger over the machine.
“If I try anything, and I mean anything, feel free to tase away,” he said. “Oh, and you could sue me for millions as well. My sexual advances would work only to your favor, sweetheart. But give me just ten minutes to explain something to you. Ten minutes, and not a second longer! I swear on my boy scouts honor.”
The taser was cool against my palms, as I placed it within my purse, staring at him in amazement, my brows raised.
“Follow me,” I said.
He smiled, his teeth shining like a new penny, glimmering against the light of the aqua sky.
He loved to touch things.
Once inside my apartment, his hands traced over the cream wall, his long fingers tapping against the tall shoe rack at the side of the door. His eyes traced over the small space of my room, and as I placed my purse on the soft brown couch, his gaze landed on mine.
“Aren’t you worried I’ll attack you?” he asked. “The taser is in your bag and all, but it’s not near you. That’s not safe—“
“I’m not worth your time,” I said, sitting on the couch, my legs slightly parted. “If you do manage to kill me, you’ll end up either in jail, or dead yourself. My best friend is in the other room, sleeping most likely, and if she found my dead body, she’ll come after you. Unlike my wimpy slaps, she carries a mean punch.”
He smiled, walking towards the couch, and sitting beside me, a bit too close for comfort. I shot him an annoyed glance, and moved to the end of the couch. Crouching down, I removed my white flip flops, placing them before me. The warm blue carpet soaked under my feet, as I placed my hands on my knees, the fabric of my jeans pressed against my palms. The small, square TV against the wall was still on, and as he looked around the apartment, I grabbed the remote from the coffee table before me, pressing the TV off. The lull of music videos ceased, as I exhaled a deep breath, wondering what I’d gotten myself into by inviting this stranger into my apartment, and possibly, into my life.
“So this is how the poor live, huh?” He sounded genuinely curious, and it surprised me.
I didn’t know what to say, so I simply waited till he began to give his explanation of whatever he so desperately needed to talk about. As he stared around the small space of my room, at the picture frames of me and my parents, and a few friends from long ago, I took that moment to observe him.
There was a childlike fascination in the depth of his golden brown eyes, and I wondered whether I had judged him wrong. When I noticed the patch of red along his cheek, a pang of guilt sunk through my chest, as I bit my lip.
“Wait here,” I told him.
He nodded, continuing to stare around the room, as I got up, and headed to the kitchen just a few feet away. Opening the fridge, I took out a small ice pack, before closing the white door. Walking over to the sink, I unrolled a layer of paper towel beside the counter, wrapping it over the ice pack, and striding back towards the couch.
His
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