holding my head up high |open

[garrett paul carlyle]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=style, line-height:80%;][atrb=style, width:279px; padding:10px; background:#ffffff;] I WAS BORN, I HAVE LIVED, I WILL SURELY DIE It had become a ritual of sorts. Every Thursday morning, around nine forty in the morning, he would sit down at the same table, with usually the same waitress who would deliver him his same order within ten -fifteen- minutes of settling down. Right now Garrett was five minutes into sitting down at his favorite table by the window, sipping on black, freshly brewed coffee. There was a bit of a devilish smirk on his face, full of satisfaction as he consumed the beverage. There were few people in the cafe. Most of them were a little older. Typically, this place is over run by students from either university, but at this time of the day they were all in classes. And Garrett was exactly where he liked to be.... alone. His eyes turned to the window, looking outside. Normally the streets too would have a decent amount of people wandering around, especially downtown. Royal was a busy place for a small town. Now that winter has struck, the ie had become particularly bad that year. Living on the coast ensured some random, brutal snow storms. Yet, regardless of that matter, Garrett always brought himself to the Crown. It was homey, and they treated him like the family he acted like he didn't even have. Knowing it would only be a few more minutes until the waitress served him his typical Thursday morning meal, Garrett picked up the newspaper that was seated on the other half of the table. For now, the local news hidden inside of the Royal columns would source him with all the information he would need in the town.

credit to kara caution, shine, & atf.

[dominic anthea riley]

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THE TIDES TOO STRONG
y o u ' l l c a t c h y o u r d e a t h

“No, this has never happened before!” the young woman pressed, huffing, flipping her hair out of her face. A hard plastic card was held in her long, carefully manicured nails, which she brandished like a weapon at the clerk. The girl, young and certainly still in high school, fumbled nervously. She spouted some question about whether Dominic had some other form of payment. The young woman sighed, pulling her large purse of her shoulder, depositing it noisily on the counter to rifle through the contents. As organized as she liked to be, the bag had a tendency to fall into a mess, no matter what Dom did. She had a million different purses for cash and cards and pills, it was a travesty. She'd been meaning to perhaps downsize the bag, but the Lois Vuitton had put a big dent in what she had managed to save after coming home broke from New York. She had needed the bag though. Dominic was nothing if not fashionable, and clothing was above food on her list of priorities.

There was a light tutting noise behind her, no doubt impatient customers. Dominic was causing a scene, she knew that, she had even when she'd come flying through he door, bells jingling, disturbing the old people and there coffee. These people could wait ten more seconds for their damn orders, couldn't they? She hated appearing dishevelled, but it wasn't her fault that this cashier had no idea how to work her till. Dom sighed, finally extracting a wrinkled ten dollar bill from the very bottom of her purse, where it had no doubt fallen out and been forgotten. After she presented it to the flustered looking girl, no doubt worried about her line up and her job, Dom said a very forced thank you, swooping up her change and placing it in her change purse, where things ought to go.

Dom led herself to the end of the counter where her drink would be deposited, trying not to shoot a glare at the other customers. “Perhaps if the barista wasn't so incompetent they wouldn't have to deal with this,” she muttered to herself, nails clacking on the counter. She didn't care if she'd made a scene, Dominic rather enjoyed the attention.

SO BREATHE FOR ME, JUST BREATHE

THANKS

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