The Bar

3. Issues

      Clara swept the floors of the bar then tied up the rest of the trash that needed to be taken out. It was taking Flint forever to take out the trash and she was not about to defy his orders and take the trash out herself.
She reassured herself that he would return from the first trash run and get the second set of bags.

    Clara went to the back of the storage room looking for the mop. Opening a door in the back she had found the broom closet. Her heartrate picked up suddenly. The closet was tiny, only a sink and a bucket crowded the small space. Her claustrophobia had kicked in. Taking a deep breath, Clara went inside, making sure the door behind her remained open. Once she was done prepping the mop she hurried out of the small space and felt a wave of relief.

Clara hurried out to the open floor and began mopping. Once done around the bar, she went to the platform and hurried her way around the tables.

Finished with work, she retreated to the closet. She hurried as fast as she could to drain the water and put the mop aside, but she was too preoccupied. Trying not to burn herself on the boiling water from the bucket as she drained it, the door slowly drifted. Once she had put the bucket down and the mop aside she heard the click. Clara turned around and came face to face with the close door. She hurried and grabed the door knob, her heart beat picking up its pace. She pushed the door but it didn't budge. She twisted the handle and pushed again harder. Her mind racing through the possibilities of her never leaving the confined space. Flashbacks came to her as her beathing quicken. Quickly, her fists started pounding on door for it to open. Her fear strengthened. Pain in her chest was rising from her fastened heartrate.

What if someone closed the door?

What if someone locked it?

Ridiculous thoughts went through Clara's mind as the anxiety and the pain in her chest became unbearable.
"Flint!" She screamed. Her eyes burned as tears came from her frightened thoughts.

She pushed the door and screamed his name over and over until she heard the sound of footsteps running to the door.

It budged but didn't open, then suddenly the wood on the door cracked as the large scottman pryed the jammed door open.

His face looked white as a ghost, worry filling his entire body, his heart racing at the sound of her screams.
Once the door cracked open, pieces of wood flung on the floor. She was breathing heavily, her eyes filled with tears and her skin paler than normal from her frightened state.

Clara rushes out of the closet and swings her arms around the large man. She mumbles "thank you" over and over into his chest as his shirt soaks up her worried tears.
He puts his hands on her back, lightly caressing, calming her down.

He was confused as to why she was terrified of being in the closet. Was there something in there? He glanced around the closet, still holding her. There was nothing. She pulls away and mumbles an apology but Flint just shakes his head, moving his hands to grip her arms.

"Are you okay?" He asks. She nods.

His hands move up from her arms up to her face. Cupping her smooth face in his rough palms, he moves his thumbs across her cheek, removing the tears when the though occurs to him. The answer to his questions sparks in his brain and he says the word aloud.

"Claustrophobia?"

She nods then moves her eyes down to her feet feeling shame.
He pulls her back, her head against his chest. He moves his fingers through her hair, giving into his want, but just a little. He leans down his nose nuzzles her hair just enough to breath in her scent. Oranges. She smelled like oranges. Quickly, he moves his head back, away from her before she notices.