As Diane rode up the elevator, and searched through the pockets of her white summer dress; the doors slid open. She didn’t step out. Instead, she jabbed a random floor number and continued her search for the missing item in her purse. Fingers frantically poked and prodded different nooks for a particular sensation: sharp edges, soft felt cover, and the cube shape which fit comfortably in the palm of her hand. For eight months, this item pushed her to the brink of frustration, but now she was ready to make a clear decision.
Dean Delarosa sat in the café taking short glances at his watch as the clouds outside twisted and turned in grey and dark blue hues. His feet tapped to the thump of his heart against his ribcage at the thought of her face. So to calm his racing heart, he closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the dark void under his lids. The smell of bitter coffee, light sweat, and syrupy sweetness hit him in the void. This mingled with the sound of air being cut in half at a steady beat by the petal arms of the ceiling fan that strained at every odd beat. Absentmindedly, he traced the rim of the lukewarm cup of coffee with a gaunt forefinger which a year ago was a reasonably healthy one attached to an average body with decent looks, and a harmless life. But when Dean was told of the time limit on his life, he’d decided to travel. He’d been to all the different cities he’d wanted to see, drank until he blacked out, smoked pot until he laughed so much his brain drowned in bubbling goose bumps, and camped out in nature just to awaken to the sun as it slowly peeked from under the covers of the horizon.