January 12th

Posted: January 12, 2013 in Uncategorized

Dear journal,

I had this weird feeling in my stomach all day at work, and finally figured out it must be anticipation. It’s been a really long time since I’ve had something in my schedule to which I am looking forward. I don’t know if you have noticed, but I pretty much just eat, sleep, clean, work and now run when the mood strikes me. But tonight, I had my first social engagement in – I don’t even know how long, and I realized I was really looking forward to it. Perhaps I should plan to leave the house more often.

Anyway, the shift went like all shifts do, and the walk home was pleasant, mostly because I got home just before the sky opened and started pouring rain. I took a tour through my closet and picked out some jeans and a top I haven’t seen in a while, and was glad that they fit. They even fit well, if I do say so myself. All that was left to do was wait for Andrew to arrive. I had nearly an hour wait, and tried to distract myself from spending much of it looking at the clock in the living room. I started to get hungry, but even though eating would be a great way to make the time go quicker, I reminded myself that Andrew and I would be going for food after he arrived.

6pm arrived. Andrew didn’t. The weird feeling in my stomach turned to hunger laced with, well, something I haven’t identified yet. Resentment? Sadness? Deeper hunger? By 6:20pm, I was starving, and since I hadn’t prepared anything, assuming I’d be eating out, I decided to take myself to the diner. I had just thrown on my jacket, found my umbrella and locked my front door when I turned and actually ran right into Andrew. The poor guy was dripping wet, and explained that he’d had a small challenge finding my place.

At least he showed up. My stomach persisted in hunger, but didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

We decided on the diner, since it was close and the rain wasn’t getting any lighter. I raised my umbrella a little higher than usual so Andrew could occupy the other side, although both of our shoulders were soggy by the time we sat down in the diner.

We ordered. We ate. We chatted a little, although there were probably more awkward silences than words. Well, perhaps they weren’t awkward. It would have been more awkward if we tried to fill every moment with words. I still don’t know where he comes from, but learned that he used to play a few sports where ever that somewhere was. It sounded like he came alone when he asked to be let into our town.

He asked about me – what I do for a hobby besides nearly knock people over. I started to tell him about excavating Mother’s junk as our food arrived. It felt weird describing Mother out loud again. It felt weirder sharing some of the strange things I’d found out loud. It was not a bad feeling, just an unfamiliar one.

Andrew picked up the cheque and walked me home. The rain was pretty bad when we stepped onto the porch, and I offered to let him wait it out with a cup of tea if he wanted.

And that’s how there came to be a boy sleeping on my couch downstairs. I’m glad I cleared a lot of Mother’s junk out of there a while back, and just hope Andrew doesn’t go exploring. That would surely end in him finding me insane.



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