A Promise That Smells Like Watermelon Incense
”... I’ll try to be better, I promise.”
Neither of them were good at these types of conversations.
“I met a girl today,” he replied.
Her heart unexplainably dropped. “Mmh,” was her only response.
“At that little coffee shack.. She said, ‘Thanks, M’am,’,” he paused to chuckle, “I wrote down my number, put it in her tips bucket, winked, and left.” His eyes lazy, and in a faraway place, Cyn tried to bring him back.
“What’s her name?”
“Candy.” His tone was dead serious, his gaze unwavering from hers now.
“Candy. Who thinks you’re a woman and makes yucky coffee.. ahh, love.”
She couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. He started the car, turned the wailing guitar song on again, and pulled out of the parking lot. Only then, when Cyn’s eyelids were drooping and they were in a new dirty parking space, Marl’s apartment complex, did she stop humming- Aaron Carter’s “I Want Candy”. She curled up on Marl’s sofa and fell asleep; her mixmatched socks on his lap, head on a pillow that reeked of watermelon incense.