‘Tomorrow’ came much too fast for me to prepare against whatever that Tiffany girl had in stock. Surprisingly, I slept through the night smoothly—something I had deemed impossible with how flustered I had gone back home. ‘Tomorrow’ rung in my ears like Quasimodo’s bells had been strapped to my skull and that alone was enough to block my body from doing anything, ending in quite a while of fumbling with the keys just trying to get them in.

That wasn’t the best part of it—no. The night flew by without trouble, but that didn’t excuse ‘Tomorrow’ from becoming the slowest day of my existence.

Tiffany was nowhere to be seen. The curtains on her window remained closed the entire time, and from the looks of it, no one seemed to be home; not that I wanted to see anyone else there. While it was a bright day full of sunshine and kids screaming their little lungs out, I was slumped on my bed feeling rather...disappointed?

Yes, that’s the perfect word. Disappointed by my own means, because I didn’t know Tiffany other than her name, her apparent love for exhibitionism coupled with a lack of instinct towards stranger danger, and that she was gay; of course that she was gay, she made that clear with her touchy-feely hands the night before. Tiffany, however, did not know me either, as far as I figured. Then again even that I didn’t know; I didn’t know Tiffany at all, yet I had somehow expected something from her; anything but her absence.

I was disappointed it even bothered me to begin with.

But it did—so much I felt pathetic—and I laughed because damsel in distress seemed so absurd and fitting now.

The afternoon sky had dimmed the streets when I got back from a run down by the forest trail, that’s when I saw her walking towards her house with an older man—presumably her dad—carrying a vulgar amount of bags draped on his arm. I stood by my door fishing those dang keys out from somewhere inside a pocket that was not cooperating in my plan to avoid her, feeling terribly paranoid that she was watching me. Then I heard silence as the door finally clicked open and decided maybe I could sneak a glance and confirm that she was long gone so I could relax.  When I did, her gaze just about kicked the air out of my already spastic body. Her eyebrows were up in delight and that taunting grin decorated her pretty face; no one could mistake she was aware of how twitchy I had become under her stare, and no one could deny how much she enjoyed herself knowing what it did to me.

Abort mission, I thought. And I hid; under every blanket in my room, I hid.

Unlike the night before it was past midnight and I couldn’t even fathom lying my head on a pillow without throwing it at a wall a few blinks later. It was late; I was fully awake and determined to punch myself to sleep if that’s what it took; the day had been too long and boring and thinking that Tiffany was in her home as if nothing had happened—or nothing was bound to happen today—only served to piss me off in brutal levels. I couldn’t stand my room, I couldn’t stand my house, so going downstairs to sit out on the sidewalk seemed like a good alternative.

“Good evening, neighbor. Lovely seeing you here.”

You’re kidding me.

Tiffany mirrored me across the little patch of grass between our homes with a lit up phone on one hand and her chin on the other, elbows resting on her knees. Her tone was obviously playful: too high-pitched to be a normal greeting and too theatrical to hold good intentions.

“Good evening, Batman. Do you not sleep?”

“Do you?”

“I can’t. Can you?”

She ignored the other half. “Something got you restless?” she smiled.

The words got clogged in my throat and nothing but a painful cough came out; Tiffany chuckled and stood.

“Well—

 I’ll be seeing you. You should get something for that. Maybe pills, warm drinks—maybe a massage; those are great, and I’m willing to help a neighbor. I’m known for being a good Samaritan.” She winked and disappeared.

After ten full minutes of gaping my mouth did I notice her door had not been shut and was creaking softly with the wind. Forgetting something like that at her age didn’t seem likely; it was too childish, too clumsy of her part. Cute, but unsafe, and that thought pushed me to want to close the door myself.

Except I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

An arm shot out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me in and twisting me quick enough to face outside, unable to see who it was. Abort life, I thought.

“Took you long enough, you’re kinda dense with these things,” Tiffany whined in my ear, cutting short my panic. Her hands switched from locking my wrist to lightly hold my waist, laughing quietly against my back which was tightly pressed against her.

“This is…I—um...hi,” I tried.

“Ah," she said, "so someone got you restless. I can help with that too."

I guess this was ‘tomorrow’.

I give up, I'm seriously not trying people, I'm so sorry. This is so boring and predicatable, I can't with myself. If you can't tell yet this story has no plot. I never made a plot, I just kinda make chapters that hopefully relate to eachother and put them up because you were nice enough to read and I don't want to just "abort mission". Not kidding when I said this was practice. But omgomg ahjumma look I wrote a lot be proud of me!!