I've been at Darcy's all day, it's been uneventful as usual. I've done the usual restocking and cleaning throughout the day. Per the norm, I find several books that catch my eye as I restock. That Louis Armstrong biography continues to steal my attention away each time I'm in that aisle, I want to see for myself if it's truly boring and non-informative or if Harry was just being unjustly critical.

At this very moment, I am sitting behind the desk reading my own writing. I add parts to old writings, scribble out mistakes or sections I've grown to dislike. On nearly every page there's at least one writing that's been completely exed out, that usually happens when I've read it one too many times and begin to despise every letter in it, I overanalyze a lot of my work if I read it right after I write it. Sometimes I'll wait months to go back and edit a piece to avoid the wasting of it.

I'm at the passage I wrote last night and I desperately want to tear it off the page completely. It's not the worst thing I've ever written, I just loathe the validity of it. There are a few passages that I've not dared to reread since writing them, mostly when I first got my notebook two years ago. I had so many intrusive and destructive things to say about myself--even more than now--that will haunt me if I look at them again. They're nowhere near as metaphorical or philosophically driven as my more recent work, they're mainly just ramblings of horrific insecurities I had or things I'd never admit out loud.

High school was not a time full of fond memories to reminisce on. I had few friends (none that have lasted), my homelife was shit, and I experienced things that I've never spoken about to anyone. My dark, twisted view on myself is the result of a concoction of my parents and the shit I'd gone through.

I see myself as a car with a broken radio box--the car still drives without it, sometimes the music will sporadically be revived and play through the speakers but it never is clear or permanent. My life still continues but I rarely see beauty in the present, I expect any amusement to dissipate quickly.

I ended my high school career with mediocre grades, minus my english class, and no one to celebrate graduation with. The only friend I've maintained since high school is Teddy and she's my sister. English was the one class I actually cared about after sophomore year. My senior english teacher, Mrs.Masten, was the only reason I graduated, I told her I was going to drop out and she refused to let me. I spent so many afternoons in her classroom doing homework before I'd go to Darcy's, she would make sure I'd get all my work done. She told me that I shouldn't waste the potential I have to create a successful future on meager obstacles in the present.

She helped me find a route to continue my education, she was like the mother I never had. She did all the parenting while Bob was busy fighting with my mother who was a useless druggie. My mother would show up periodically to remind me how much of an inconvenience it was to have me as a child, even after I emancipated from her.

My mother was worthless from the day I was born up into the present. I haven't spoken to her since graduation when she told me I wasn't going to amount to anything and that I'm far too much like her to ever be anything other than exactly what she'd become.

Before, when I said that my biggest nightmare was turning out to be my professor, that was a lie. It's really to end up like my mother, which is mildly similar. She brings no value into this world, just chips away at others' souls.

She had Teddy when she was sixteen and dropped out of highschool. Then, she had me at eighteen. My father got sent to prison for the first time when she was twenty-one for battery and assault. I've already surpassed her in the category of graduating highschool and not getting knocked up. Can't say the same for Teddy with the getting knocked up part, that's different though because Nick is her soulmate. Soulmates might be a sack of shit but I don't see either of them ever being with anyone else ever.

Love is strange.

My phone rings and an unknown number displays across the screen. I peek around to see where Darcy is, in the children's section sitting on an old rocking chair reading to a few preschool aged children. I slide my finger across the display and bring the device up to my ear.

"Hello?" I say quietly in an attempt to not distract Darcy's listeners.

A smooth, radio commentator sounding female voice emits from the phone, "Good afternoon, is this Miss Phoebe Carter?"

"It is, may I ask who's speaking?" I request in an attempt to sound professional.

"This is Barbra Henderson, the chair of the entry board for the local small-writing contest. I called to confirm your entry. It is currently untitled, is this a purposeful choice or a miscommunication between you and your advisor? " She says quickly and ritualistically, clearly having made similar calls previous to this one.

"It was a miscommunication, can I have it corrected over the phone?" I inquire as I pick at the skin of my other hand's thumb with its middle finger.

A brief pause is held and I hear muffled talking before she returns back to the phone, "It can be corrected over the phone. What is it's title?"

"Desirous Delusion." I say quickly, it's what I'd meant to title the piece when I turned it into my professor but I must have forgotten out of eagerness.

"Interesting choice." She says monotonously, "Thank you for your time and apologies for any inconvenience. A schedule for the event will be given to your advisor shortly. Have a nice day."

I go to give her a farewell but the call is hung up before I have a chance to get it out. That was an abrupt ending to the call, she must have had other entry confirmations that needed tending to.

The rest of my shift was just as uneventful as the beginning, Darcy sent me home early as I was supposed to meet Sam at Tiff's at six.

My phone buzzes in my pocket as I open the door to leave, the screen illuminates with a text, 'Henry is not doing well, might be time to say goodbye. Raincheck?"

Sam had told me during our coffee that his cat, Henry, is seventeen years old and starting to fade. I can't be upset about him ditching our plans if his cat is dying, that'd be heartless of me. I type back, 'Of course. So sorry to hear that :('

I head outside and decide to go to Tiff's anyways, I'm in the mood for pancakes. I make my way down the street to the corner where the aged diner sits in all of its glory. Teddy is on maternity leave which means the two girls are probably working. Ted has always been able to do more work by herself than both of them combined, I think it's because they're too busy eavesdropping on everyone's gossip to actually do their jobs. I can't be bothered with being maddened by it though seeing as I've never been given cold food or had any of my secrets spilled by them.

The air is only becoming more and more frigid by the day, it bites at your skin and reddens your nose something fierce. I tug at my coat to pull it to cover my torso in an effort to conserve some body heat from escaping. The autumn decorations on this street have been taken down in anticipation of the upcoming winter and are to be replaced with all sorts of red ribboned wreaths and electrical lights.That's the beauty of a small town, winter here always radiates the qualities of a cheesy Hallmark movie.

I tug at the bitter handle with my sleeve covering my hand to open the door, stepping in and feeling the warm air burn the sensitive skin on my face. I find a seat at the counter and perch myself on the red stool before setting my notebook atop the laminate counter and removing my coat from my arms.

Giana walks up to me with a notepad and asks for my drink order through the smacking of gum. She comes back moments later with the bubbling beverage and heads off to another table to take their order.

I hear the overhead bell above the door ring and turn to see Harry step through the door. He's wearing black jeans and a button down shirt without a coat, how is he not freezing to death? He makes his way over to the counter and sits on a stool a few down from mine.

I pull my eyes away from him and swirl my straw around my drink before Giana comes back over and takes my order as Grace takes Harry's.

"What're ya having Pheebs?" Giana asks impatiently.

I hum for a moment in last minute indecisiveness before sticking with my original choice, "I'll have two chocolate chip pancakes."

She jots the order down sloppily on the ticket before pulling it off the pad and ticking it on the turntable in the kitchen window. She comes back to stand in front of me with her elbows resting on the table and an intrigued look on her face.

"Teddy tells me you've found a saint of a boy." She speaks softly but with excitement in her voice.

Of course she did, if I thought my secrets were safe with her, I was seriously mistaken. I may have said that Giana and Grace are gossips but Teddy is practically as bad as them. She tells them about whatever rumors she's heard, including mine, while she's at work or as they're switching shifts.

"I may have." I say nonchalantly.

Her face drops into a disapproving grimace, "Phoebe, I need details."

I roll my eyes and sigh, "His name is Sam. He's blonde with brown eyes, about 5'10". I'd say he's intelligent minus his taste for country music. Real nice."

Sam is never going to live down that fault, his music palate is one that I won't be forgetting or forgiving anytime soon.

"You have found yourself a saint." She says as she swats her arm out to hit my shoulder. The bell in the kitchen window rings and she turns, "I'll be back."

I lower my head as I shake it and laugh quietly under my breath. The waitresses here are all nosy, must be why Teddy gets along with them so well.

"Where's lover boy?" I hear the deep accent say from down the counter.

I turn to look at him and lower my brows, "Excuse me?"

His shoulders shift slightly as a silent snicker escapes his nose, "The waitress staff is very open."

Grace must have said something, I told Teddy this morning about my plans to meet Sam here. That little blabbermouth went and told on me. "He's not here."

Harry stands up and moves to the open stool next to me, "And why is that? You get bored of him already?"

His condescending tone strikes a nerve with me but I try to hide it, "No, he had something come up."

"Classic excuse." He says with counterfeit pity.

I scrunch my nose and look at him with contempt, "As if, he's not like that. Besides, I don't need your sham of sympathy."

"Whatever you say." He rasps in vanquish.

The kitchen's bell dings again and my plate of pancakes along with another dish are set in the place between the kitchen and dining area. Grace sets down her crossword puzzle and pen next to the coffee pot and lifts the two plates from the window, setting them in front of us.

Harry's plate consists of grilled cheese and smiley face fries. I can't help the grin that slips onto my lips from the idea of this crotchety man ordering and eating smiley face fries.

He must have noticed the look on my face because he's quick to defend himself, "Don't you dare say anything."

I lift my hands up in denial while I fight back the urge to laugh, "About what?"

His green irises are hidden by his narrowing eyes and lowered brows, "Watch it sunshine, you're no better."

I shrug at his words, he's got a point. "You really are just a ray of sunshine aren't you, always so polite."

"Of course." He says back with sarcasm dripping off his tongue.

I pour syrup onto my pancakes before I dig at them with my fork and poke a piece and bring it to my mouth. He grabs the ketchup bottle from the stand in front of us and squeezes the bottle to let a mountain of the condiment pour onto the plate.

"Woah, got enough ketchup there?" I tease.

He looks down at my food and then back up at me, "Lake of syrup?"

"Touche." I admit as my lip pokes out and I give an acknowledging nod.

He picks up one of the two triangles that the sandwich had been cut into and sticks the corner in the pile of ketchup.

"Oh my god, what're you doing?" I gasp out embarrassingly loud.

He takes the corner of bread covered in the sauce and bites down on it before responding, "Eating my food."

My mouth falls open and I drop my fork onto the counter, "No, that's a crime. What you just did is criminally offensive."

His face falls into a confused expression, "What're you talking about?"

I gesture my hand to the piece of grilled cheese in his hand and then the ketchup, "What you just did. You dipped a grilled cheese in ketchup, that's shameful."

His expression turns from slightly confused to completely lost, "Don't Americans eat this with tomato soup all the time?"

"Yeah?" I reply muddledly.

"Tomato soup, made of tomatoes. Ketchup, made of tomatoes." He explains as he places the half sandwich back onto the platter.

"So gross." Is all I can think to say back.

He grabs the half that hasn't had a bite taken from it and dips it in ketchup before holding it up to me, "You've clearly never experienced it, now you've got to try it."

I shake my head feverishly and admitly decline, "Absolutely not."

He wiggles the food as he brings it closer to me with a mockingly stern voice, "Come on."

I grimace in disgust and lean away from it, "No."

He shoves the bread into my cheek, smearing ketchup across it. "Oops, guess you should've just tried it."

"Harry!" I yelp out as I bring a napkin to remove the condiment from my skin.

"Sunshine give it up, just try." He pouts dramatically as he continues to hold it out.

"Fine." I give in as I take the grilled cheese from his grip.

I bite into it timidly, barely taking any of it. I chew it and I hate to admit it but it isn't half bad, it's actually kind of good, I won't let him know that though. "That is rancid." I fib.

His lips curl up and a smirk appears, "You like it."

I look down at my glass and spin the straw between my fingers, "No, it's horrible."

He chuckles quietly, "Whatever you say, sunshine."

It falls silent between us and I pick my fork back up and lift up a piece of pancake, "Want a bite?"

He juts his lower lip out in consideration before lifting his shoulders, "Why not."

I bring the fork to his mouth and he glances at me before taking the pancake off of the utensil. "Way too much syrup," he says through a mouthful of pancake.

"Okay, ketchup boy." I tease.

We continue to eat our food as we sit there in quietness. The ceiling fans whirring and the sounds of food being prepared hum in the background. I twist back and forth in my stool as I devour what's left of my pancakes. I see a single smiley face fry sitting lonely on his plate. As he goes to grab it I reach across him, placing my hand on his leg to stretch the needed distance, and snag it just as he was about to take it. I shovel it into my mouth and a gluttonous, innocent smile widens on my face.

"Hey, that was mine!" He sulks.

The wide smile on my face only grows, "I deserved it, you made me try that obscenity."

He only nods his head and brings his wallet out to pay for his food, he pulls out a twenty which is much more than he would ever need to spend on a grilled cheese. He tosses it onto the counter and steps down from the stool. "Come on, I'll walk you out."

My brow lowers in puzzlement, "I haven't paid yet."

"I left enough, let's go." His tone is stubborn.

I hop down from the stool and slip my coat onto my body, he grabs the notebook off of the counter and holds it out for me to retrieve.

We exit the diner and I turn in the direction of my house. The sun has been long down, the street lights illuminate the streets. The air is more glacial than ever as I make my way down the street with Harry a few steps behind me.

He catches up and walks next to me, "So, your pet likes country. That's embarrassing."

I let out a subtle snicker and look down at my shoes, "Stop calling him that. Apparently enjoying country music is a federal offense around here, which I don't disagree with."

"It's so monotonous. It's all the same--the boy likes the girl, they fall in love, he fucks up, and she destroys his car." He says unsentimental.

"That's what I think. Sam says he likes the nice ones, you know, the ones where they're happy." I attempt to justify Sam's choice of music.

"Of course he does." Harry replies with detest coating his words.

I kick a rebel pebble on the ground with the toe of my boot and bring my eyes put to look at Harry's side profile. His jaw remains sharp and his expression tense. "What about you? An old soul, who's your forte?"

"Nothing new, I prefer nostalgia. Rock, old jazz, as long as it was released before the nineties." His face softens and his eyes glance down at me. "I know you're a crooner girl. Anka and Sinatra? A bit basic but timeless nonetheless."

I bring my lower lip between my teeth, "They're the classics. I enjoy the individuality of the originals. Classic means classy to me, love was genuine. Now all music talks about is fucking the next person you see and dropping them the next day, not my style."

"Fair." We walk a ways before he speaks up again, now on my street, "You still have that Sinatra vinyl?"

I look at him with a questioning look before responding, "Yeah, I can't decide if I want to keep it or return it. Part of me wants to have it but then I think maybe I should give it back, let other people enjoy it too, I can always borrow it again."

He looks at me with agreement, "I'd return it, there aren't enough of those beauties left in record stores."

I let out a short exhale, "Yeah."

"I have the key to the store," he says in realization, "Go grab it from inside and we can return it."

We? I guess I'm going on a nighttime stroll today. Harry is being half-pleasant to be around and I have a feeling it won't last, I should just take it as it comes. "Okay."

I walk up the driveway of my house and in the front door. Harry leans against the pole of the porch as I close the screen door behind me, leaving the wooden door cracked open.

Teddy is coming from her bedroom as I walk down the hallway, "Hey Pheebs, how was Tiffs?"

"Fine. I'm going to return something to Dorthea, I'll be back."

She looks down at the watch on her wrist, "It's past eight, Dorthea's is closed."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise, now I have to think of an excuse, "Well I stopped by her store before coming here and she said she'd wait to leave until I returned it."

This isn't an impossible idea, Dorthea is a sweet lady so it wouldn't be shocking for her to do that.

"Alright," Ted brushes it off.

I quicken my pace as I walk past her and open the door to my bedroom before dropping my notebook on my bed and grabbing the vinyl off of it's temporary home on my dresser. I hold it with one arm against my chest and rush back down the hallway to see Teddy peeking out the window. Shit.

"Is that Harry?" She turns to look at me with a startled expression.