The imperfection we called our love | ✔

*Twenty-Five*

Many of us act purely on emotions, - we try our best not to, but we end up doing it more times than we realise.

As we are all human and equally flawed

When we're angry; we lash out, when we sad; we cry, when we happy; we smile, when we hurt and have recently faced brutal defeat; we retreat and usually don't come out for a while.

I hadn't seen mom for a full week now, - I had considered calling the police that day after I helped mom inside and gave her frozen peas for her face that had begun to swell

I reached for the phone

And I never saw mom act so fast

''Who you calling?'' she asked, her hand already covering the mouthpiece

''Police'' were my next words, just barely above a whisper

She grabbed the phone, and tossed it across the floor

''Don't. Just leave it'' she seemed to warn, yet at the same time plead to me pathetically.

I was enraged, how could she say that? How could you let someone hurt and disrespect you like that?

Mom had always been the one to tell me how important it was not to let anyone ever hurt me, and if they did I should give them hell for it.

So I didn't understand why she was being such a hypocrite at this moment in time.

I reached for the phone again.

She didn't know what was good for her

''Emily, I said leave it!'' she yelled

I did.

But never had I had so little respect for her than I did that day

________________________________

Now filling up an empty cup with coffee, the old man glanced up at me from behind his newspaper sliding his horn rimmed glasses down his nose

He smiled at me

I gave him a tiny smile back

He smiled brighter to emphasise 'smiling'

God, was I that morbid looking? That old men were giving me charity-I feel- bad for-that- girl-smiles,

Even Sheri gave me a disdainful look

So I plastered a smile to my face for the rest of the day, shoving all feelings of remorse and anger down

The bell tingled on the counter signalling another customer, notebook and pen still in hand, I rattled of the lines I knew well

''Hi, good day, what can I get you?''

After a minute of silence, I looked up, and nearly dropped my notepad

''What are you doing here?'' I asked a little bit too aggressively

''Ordering'' Finn answered with his usual nonchalance

I couldn't help it, I smiled.

Of course he wasn't ordering he didn't know the first thing they sold at a cafe.

The manager: Ross came in from out back, looking from me to Finn warily, taking his position behind the main till.

Finn didn't seem Like he belonged in the cafe-scene, with his skinny jeans, - that wasn't quite-skinny, and oversized t-shirt, - his tattoos peeking out from underneath the areas that weren't covered by material

Ross looked at me for a moment too long, that it kind of made me feel guilty, even though I had done nothing to feel guilty of.

I set a blueberry muffin on a napkin, sliding it over the counter to Finn