“Not to worry, dream team. I’ve learned my lesson. I may be a slow learner, but once I get it, I implement.”
Relationships are the most useless transactions ever. You meet, you get to know each other, you fuck, you fight, then you realize you never knew each other at all and finally you part.
Maybe my dead beat father is not a complete imbecile.
Humans just aren’t supposed to mate for life.
Kaya
“Whew!”
I try catching my breath as I stumble into the nearby Smoothie Queen. Any person who ever said that they love when they hit their runner’s high is a bold face liar. I don’t think such a thing exists. I can’t feel my legs and my heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest.
I hate running.
“Can I help you?” the cashier asks as I tilt my head up to read the menu.
“What’s the best tasting green smoothie you have?”
“I have no idea,” she answers in the most disinterested nasal voice I’ve ever heard.
“But… you work here.”
“I’m a cashier, not a taste tester.”
Why these places hire angry teenagers to serve the public is beyond me.
“Just give me a medium green machine,” I say, thankful my heart rate is finally lowering.
“That’ll be $8.99.”
“For celery juice?” I ask, shocked by the price tag. I’m not used to million dollar health food and frankly, I can’t afford it.
“You don’t get out much, huh?” she chuckles sarcastically in the annoying way that only teenage girls do. “This is how much smoothies cost. In fact, the smoothie place three miles down charges ten bucks for a medium. You’re actually getting a bargain.”
It figures that the snarky teeny-bopper has no opinion about the taste of her smoothies, but knows all about the market price for them.
I plunk a sweaty ten-dollar bill down on the counter that I’ve pulled out of my exercise bra, and the girl saunters off to make my drink.
When my phone rings, I smile once I see that it’s my brother Kyle.
“Hello?”
“Hey, big head.”
“Hey, yourself.”
“Whatcha doing?”
“Exercising.”
He pretends to clear his throat in a fit full of laughter.
“You’re what?”
“I went for a run,” I say defensively, annoyed that he’s laughing at me. To say I’m sensitive about the size of my hips, butt and thighs is an understatement.
“In February? It’s cold as monkey balls out there.”
