When Distress Meets Distress - S01 E01

Story 2 years ago

When Distress Meets Distress - S01 E01

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 1

I made my way to a table, opening one of several

books about Hitler that I’d grabbed from the shelf. I

started reading one and surprisingly, it was

interesting.

I heard whispering and I didn’t bother looking up, it

was probably the guy and Beverly. He most likely

didn’t have a sense of direction. If he did, there’s no

way he’d be here. No one comes to the library

anymore, mainly because whatever you need to

know, you can look up on your phone or your

computer. I don’t even know why I’m here. Oh wait,

yes I do; I don’t have a library card so I can’t check

out any books; I should have just went to a

bookstore and bought the darned book.

I heard shoes walking across the tile floor. When

they stopped a few feet away from me, I came out

of the trance that I was in while I was reading. I

heard the chair across from me screech out. It

echoed loudly as I looked up.

I raised an eyebrow at the sight. A guy was standing

there with black hair and coffee colored eyes. He had

a smirk present on his face and he was wearing a

blue flannel shirt that he left unbuttoned; it revealed a

gray shirt underneath it.

“What?” I asked him, already annoyed with his

presence. This surprised him but he still had that

smirk on. His aura was enough to tell me, ‘player,’ or

something along those lines. I guess I’m good at

reading people.

“Well, I’m here. What are your other two wishes?”

he asked and I narrowed my eyes at him, taken by

surprise.

“For Channing Tatum, and then for you to go back to

where you came from,” I retorted.

“Your eyes are like the ocean, and I think I’m lost at

sea,” he stated. I was confused. My eyes

are brown. Is this idiot colorblind?

“My eyes are brown, moron,” I retorted. I know it’s

not kind or polite to insult strangers but I can’t help it.

“Can I take a picture of you? I want to show Santa

Claus exactly what I want for Christmas,” he

continued, leaning in slightly. I leaned away,

confused as to why this guy is even talking to me.

“Can I take a picture of you? I want to show the

police exactly who I’m filing a restraining order

against,” I snapped.

“How was Heaven when you left it?” he persisted,

starting to creep me out.

“When I left I didn’t have any proof that God had a

sense of humor, now I’ve found it,” I barked.

“Don’t you need a license to be that good looking?”

he pushed, eyes glinting. For whatever reason, I was

having an intense stare off and verbal battle with this

strange guy.

“Don’t you need a license to be that ugly?” I spat. He

raised an eyebrow before continuing.

“Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?” he asked.

“No, but it hurt when I crawled up from Hell,” I

bickered.

“Do you have a Band-Aid? I just scraped my knee

falling for you,” the nameless guy replied, unwilling

to give up. This is a battle I’m not willing to lose.

“No, but I have some salt,” I snorted. Who knew

you’d get into conversations this amusing at the

library?

“Did you have lucky charms for breakfast? Because

you look magically delicious,” he winked jokingly.

“No, I had a bowl of nails… without any milk,” I

responded.

“What would you say if I asked you to marry me?”

he leaned forward.