Timing

“Tampa, you’re killing me. You really are.” Cassandra muttered as she spotted the rather steep angle of the entry into the car park behind the 1950s-themed restaurant.

So much for slipping quietly in through the back. Even still, the main entrance was only slightly less sharp of an incline, but thankfully it lacked the bumper crunching dip from the cement slabbed street. When it rained any decent amount during the summer, cars often stalled half way onto Dale Mabry because of misjudging how deep the pool of standing water was at the exit.

Piove sempre sul bagnato.” The brutish Aston Martin lumbered along in first gear taking a very long and graceful angle up into the parking area as its owner measured her luck against the looming cold front building off in the distance. Most of the local news stations had their models predicting the twenty degree drop in temperature from the seventies down to the fifties to arrive sometime tomorrow morning. Sandra had a feeling that the storms would instead arrive in the middle of the night.

The car weighing over four thousand pounds dragging itself up from the boulevard was forced to stop suddenly because of a couple of straggling teenagers who were too consumed by whatever was on their phones to notice their surroundings. The woman cursed their generation spitefully in the language of her grandparents. “Coliogni. Dai cazzo!” Thankfully none of them heard a word as she had kept her self in seclusion with the windows up.

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Memories and Mimosas

Memories and Mimosas Playlist

“Hey, hey, sorry I’m late.” Kandajha in her delightfully vibrant athletic wear had sprinted across the wooden boardwalk to the deck where her aunt, Cassandra was admiring the view of Old Tampa Bay.

With the rather large cup of coffee nearly to her burgundy lips, Cassandra paused just enough to lean to the side to accept the kiss to her temple from her twenty-one year old niece. She was the walking image of Spring regardless of whatever month was on the calendar. Cotton candy pink lips and nails, black and Robin’s Egg blue stretch leggings and top, a koolaid purple zip-up hoodie and a pair of Sketchers that somehow incorporated all the aforementioned colours. That beautiful mane of thick chocolate curls was tossed over to one side and looked just as beautiful and voluminous as ever. Kandy was pure sunshine and vitality.

“I’m surprised they let you through wearing that getup.” The corners of Cassandra’s darkly painted mouth perked slightly as the pair shared a knowing little smile with each other. “Looks like the kid at the front of house still fancies you. Are you finally going to let him take you out then?”

Kandy brought her chair around more to Sandra’s side to afford herself a better view of the quiet beach and serene waters just a few hops away. Plopping down in the chair, she folded her hands in her lap and propped her feet up under the table on the chair position across from them. A somewhat heavy sigh came from the young girl.

“That’s my sigh of disdain. Is he not quite your thing?” Sandra perked a brow taking a healthy drink of the dark roast seasoned only with a pinch of salt.

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Back to Red: Prologue

For the next part of this series, please click here (Back to Red: Part One).

Grey. eyes lazily opened allowing Tuesday’s mid-morning sun to sear through the sliver of Sandra’s retinas that her eyelids had reluctantly exposed. A grumble was muffled as she turned her features into the musty, but still technically clean pillow that had been kept warm by the side of her face. Sweet relief washed over her as darkness flooded her sight. Light was the enemy at this point, but it hadn’t always been. In fact, the way the light blossomed into a healthy glow through the open white-painted Plantation shutters within the room was one of the reasons why she had purchased the Hyde Park bungalow in South Tampa. Above was the soft strumming of the large ceiling fan accompanied by the intermittent clink of its pull chain dancing against its frosted glass light fixtures shaped like lilies. Still, her body nagged at her.

Wearing a pair of lightweight cotton drawstring pyjama pants and her favourite oversized University of Miami t-shirt, she managed to find the perfect temperature for the bed sheet to be pulled up around her shoulders. With the air conditioning set to seventy-two and the fan going, anything exposed was frosty whilst everything under cover remained slightly toasty. Maybe if she just lay there quietly for a few minutes her body would relent as she drifted back off to sleep. Turning her face so that her cheek could cuddle into the pillow, a lighter shade of darkness now pressed into her covered vision. With her left arm and leg tossed across a large U-shaped pillow that was as long as she was tall, Sandra gripped the comfy cushion and waited for rest to retake her.

The pressure and pains in her lower abdomen persisted and the brunette sighed frustratedly. Sandra had to go to the bathroom. She wasn’t about to lay in her own piss as this would’ve ruined the very lovely mattress that had been serving up cloud nine relaxation for the last few weeks. It was the most plush of jail cells this side of a padded room. The house was silent and still all but for the ceiling fan and the circulating air via the handler hidden in a closet on another floor. She had missed the pleasant melodies of the morning birds hopping along their branches in the massive Oak tree planted just outside in the front yard. Even in the state she was in, the pleasantness of the birds’ songs was still able to touch her heart as her headboard shared a wall with them. Sometimes this was a welcomed moment of brightness. On other days, like this one, she was relieved to have not heard them at all. Something so sweet and free as birds proved to be too painful in certain moments.

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