• Dahlia’s whole world slowed to a dull aching pace. When she wasn’t haunting the various rooms of her (their) apartment, eyeing the clock every few seconds, she was stumbling through the streets barely feeling anything. She hadn’t slept properly since; coffee and Lunesta had become her best friends, infomercials her lover. On the rare day that she was happy, she would visit him and clean the place up. She would tell him how things were going (‘I’ve been thinking of checking myself into that psycho ward, y’know’), the latest news, and just about anything that came to mind after that. Time slipped by on those days, the groundskeeper sheepishly coming up to her and letting her know visiting hours were over and she would stutter an apology, blushing as she hurried off. Maybe she’ll visit her mom next; she hasn’t seen her in months and Lord knew the woman could get lonely fast.
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    The cold snow dripping down her neck and into her shirt didn’t make her mad. The fact that the impact of the icy, frozen snowball had jolted her forward, causing her to drop her books in a panic didn’t faze her at all. No, what registered was the loud snorting laugh that filled her ears and had her seeing red.
    “Oh man, it just pelted you-wham!-upside the head!” the guy howled, on his knees on the ground and holding his midsection. As quickly and precisely as possible, she whirled around, scooping a handful of snow up, formed it into a ball (an oddly shaped one) and hurled it at him with all her might. It veered off and instead of hitting his face it hit his shoulder, but garnered the reaction she desired. Smirking, she turned and gathered her thing, strutting off as he yelled about the cold.
    ‘Serves him right.’
    Dahlia met him the next day in the infirmary, both complaining of runny noses and headaches. They smiled sheepishly at each other, but said nothing. After a few minutes of silence, he turned to her, a slight blush splashed across his cheeks.
    “I’m Nathan.”
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    “It’s been months, Dolly,” her mom crooned. It was far too early for her mom to have been dipping in the alcohol. “I was wondering if you had abandoned your dear mother, but as I was telling Pam next door-you remember Pam?-‘My baby loves me, yes she does. She would never leave her momma ever.’”
    Dahlia nodded, picking up the garbage that was strewn across the floor, navigating around the sofa her mom was sprawled across. Her mom had clearly given up on her previous idea of having a spotless home and appearance. The woman had dull, matted brown hair and had, at least, chosen to wear a bathrobe that was tied and a pair of pajama pants. Last time she was greeted with a very unwanted and disturbing surprise (‘Mother, there are children outside and staring. Please cover yourself.’).
    “’Course I remember Pam, Ma.”
    Her mom moaned, a sloppy grin on her face, reaching out and groping the air in front of her. It took a few minutes for Dahlia to even notice, but the crash and thud called her attention.
    “Honestly mother; if you need something, say something. You have a mouth that works, right?” she groaned as she hoisted her mom back on the couch, who giggled in response.
    “In more ways than one, honey pie.”
    Dahlia pulled a face, resuming her task of cleaning. “Mom, that’s disgusting. Keep your late night conquests to yourself.”
    She wondered why she keeps doing this every few months. The visits before were nicer, considering her mom was well maintained and less drunk, but they were still questionable. Growing up was even worse. She shuddered at the memories that were blazing by and quelled any feelings that came along, keeping her mind focused on the task at hand. The kitchen was next.
    ‘I need to get some friends…’
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    A few weeks passed since the visit to her moms’ and she realized why she went time and again; they were a nice change of pace when days would go slow and were painful. She very well couldn’t move out, something she had thought of before, but given she didn’t have much money and living with her mom was out of the question…she would have to manage. At least the neighbors comings and goings kept her mind occupied for the most part. A crash next door, followed by shouting meant the Jones’s were having another row (‘Lisa must’ve found the pictures this time’); thumping music below was a sign that Danni’s parents were out of town and he was holding a party. The cops should be arriving at any point in the night. Above her though was a mystery. Dahlia knew that someone or several someone’s lived in the above apartment, but that was the extent of her knowledge. She’d hear snippets of gossip which only gave her vague clues that they might be in college, around her age and possibly male.
    Forcing herself from her pondering, she wandered into the kitchen, opening the pantry and taking a quick glance. Almost empty. Moving to the fridge and seeing the same thing, she concluded it was time to go shopping. Sighing deeply, she went to the front door and slipped on a pair of sandals, grabbing her keys and some money, exiting and locking the door behind her. She mentally went over what she needed the most, slowly making her way down the stairs. It was late evening, the sky a myriad of reds, pinks, and oranges that threw dramatic shadows everywhere.
    ‘So I need milk, cereal, some veggies…’
    She brought back when she slammed into someone, falling to the ground in a heap. Her backside screamed at her in pain and she laid there to let it weep gradually. The person she ‘bumped’ into, a man, was on her in a second, lifting her up in one fluid motion and apologizing profusely.
    “Oh crap, I’m sorry about that!” he said, looking worried, “You’re not hurt are you?”
    Dahlia shook her head. “Not majorly. And what are you apologizing for? I should’ve been paying attention.”
    The man chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Same goes for me. Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk probably wasn’t such a good idea in hindsight.” The last part was muttered, but Dahlia caught it and giggled. “So where you off to?”
    The question threw her off a bit, but she replied, “The grocery store. You?”
    “Same place! How freaky…wanna walk together?”
    Dahlia shrugged and began walking, the stranger in tow. He began talking about his college and the types of classes he took (‘We have this one professor who, I swear-actually we all swear-never bathes and is there to chase skirts. What a creeper.’), moving slowly onto any bits of gossip he knew about their neighbors. He dominated the conversations, which was fine with Dahlia. She took the time to study him, noticing that he was an attractive man; short, spiked blonde hair, dull green eyes, a slight tan and freckles on his face. He was a little taller than her, but that was fine with her. Short men made her feel awkward. Actually he still made her feel awkward.
    “You have any boyfriends?”
    “Huh?” She was so lost in thought she lost track of the conversation, not noticing that he had moved onto the dreaded love topic.
    “Boyfriends. Have any?” he inquired.
    She averted her gaze, shoulders slumping. “Had a fiancée…he died though.”
    “Oh…sorry about that. Didn’t mean to bring it up.”
    “It’s okay. Happened at least a year ago.”
    They had arrived at the store, going their separate ways to buy what they needed and met back up outside the store. The walk back was a little quieter, but that was okay with Dahlia as well. It allowed her time to think without the stuffy environment. Reaching the apartments, they separated once more, the man shouting his name at her as he climbed the stairs to his place.
    “I’m Michael by the way. Nice meeting ya!”
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    “You should be more careful, babe,” Nathan said, gingerly holding Dahlia’s foot in his hands. He put menial pressure, looking up at her for affirmation and turning it.
    “Ah! Yeah, I know…ow! Right there, mhm,” she groaned, gripping the toilet seat tightly. They had just moved into their new apartment and were bringing the boxes up (they scored a second floor room for a decent price). Dahlia, wanting to help Nathan out, had grabbed an admittedly heavy box. As she made her way up, she slipped and tumbled back down. Luckily she wasn’t too high up the stairs, but came out with a sprained ankle, a few bruises, and a scrape. Nathan rushed down in a panic, lifted her up and bolting to their apartment. It the better part of the hour to calm him down.
    “It doesn’t feel broken, which is good,” he replied, smiling, “Once we find the ace bandages, we’ll wrap it up. Which means you, missy, are staying right here. I’ll get everything else.” He put her foot down, standing up and making his way to the door.
    “Hon, you work too hard,” Dahlia replied.
    Nathan turned, smirking mischievously, “Well you aren’t helping much, now are you?”
    Dahlia huffed, but grinned. “I know and I’m sorry. I’ll unpack and order pizza.”
    “That’s my Doll.”
    He left in a hurry, laughing loudly as Dahlia started hobbling towards him. The majority of the boxes were brought up and Dahlia discovered, not much to her surprise, that boxes made amazing makeshift tables. And even though they didn’t have the bed yet and were forced to sleep on the floor, it was okay. Dahlia was happy as long as he was there and in their apartment.
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    Michael came over the next day, holding a covered plate with oven mitts on, smiling. He held it out to her which she took, nervously at first, but upon discovering the plate wasn’t hot, she stared at him questioningly.
    “I made too much and also thank you for talking with me yesterday, even though you probably had more important things to do,” he explained, his smile faltering slightly.
    “Not at all,” then, hesitantly, “thank you…”
    “Michael,” he helped.
    Dahlia nodded, grinning slightly. “Michael. Sorry, I’m not very good with names. What’s up with the mitts?”
    He looked down at his hands, a small blush gracing his cheeks.
    “Oh, uh, well…I was excited that I had gotten the dish right-it’s my first time making it-that I forgot to take them off when I was coming over here.”
    “You managed to cover a plate and open your door with oven mitts on? I applaud you, sir,” she giggled. His smile came back full force and he gave a dramatic bow.
    “Anything to amuse, milady.”
    “Well, I should probably get to eating this then. Thank you again for bringing it,” she said, backing into her apartment a little, “I’ll be sure to clean the plate and give it back soon.”
    “You’re very welcome and don’t worry about it. Hope you enjoy it, good day!”
    She waved to him as he went down the hall and up the stair case, returning into her apartment and closing the door.
    ‘That is definitely an interesting man.’
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    She held the sun hat firmly against her head, keeping it from flying off due to the wind. But it was merely a reaction that had been coded into her. The way the waves rolled over each other, stretching as far as they could on the beach then pulling back and shining; she was in love. A harsher gust of wind blew by, spraying her with fragments of the sea. She recoiled, but smiled nonetheless.
    “Cold, huh?”
    Dahlia nodded, not turning around. She knew who it was. “Mhm. But it’s so wonderful. I had never seen the sea before and it’s just…wow…”
    The beach was silent, save for the cries of the gulls and the waves crashing. She briefly pondered how he had managed to know when it’d be a gorgeous day – no clouds and a bright blue sky – and no one else would be here, but let it go. It didn’t matter in the long run. As long as he was there, she was happy. Warm arms circling around her waist brought her reverie and she leaned back into them. He started rocking them side to side and hummed.
    “I love you…”
    “Love you too, Nathan…”
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    Dahlia bumped into Michael again, literally, as she came down to collect her mail and give the landlord her rent. He helped her up from the floor, apologizing as she dusted herself off.
    “I’m sorry! Are you okay?”
    She waved him off and continued on her way; Michael followed. They went in silence, even as she grabbed her mail (‘Junk, junk, porn subscription…wait…wrong mail box, mailman.’) and when she handed her rent in. They climbed back up and stopped in front of Dahlia’s door. Dahlia turned and stared at him.
    “You going to follow me into my apartment as well?” she joked. Michael shrugged.
    “If you’ll let me. I just realized I never got your name.”
    “It’s Dahlia.”
    He nodded, teetering on his toes. They were thrust into another silence, a very awkward one at that. Dahlia wondered if she should let him into her apartment; it was a wreck right now and she was sure she didn’t have any coffee, or drinks for that matter. Plus there were several pictures with her and her ex-fiancée all around. And that might make it weird for him.
    “Would you…like to go out for some coffee?” she asked.
    “Sure. Want me to wait out here for you?”
    “If you wouldn’t mind.”
    She walked into her apartment, leaving the door ajar slightly and went over to the last nice picture she had taken with him. They had visited the town fair and in a rash decision, mainly because they had forgotten the camera at home, hunted down a photo booth run by a grumbling teenager and taken several pictures. There were the standard silly ones; they pulled all kinds of faces, one that she could still feel to this day. Then there was this one. Sitting close together and holding each other…
    ‘I think I’m ready to go now, Nathan. I’ll visit sometime soon, okay?’
    With that, she kissed the picture, turning and grabbing her keys, making sure she had money and left. The world was back to normal that day.