cora west
New Member
junior [/size][/color]
lower middle class.[/center]
Posts: 29
|
Post by cora west on Jul 22, 2008 17:47:44 GMT -5
 hot child in the city!running wild and looking pretty
New York is a city of change. Every day, it seems like people are changing something about themselves; their hair color, their boyfriend or girlfriend, their job, their apartment, their sobriety level. New Yorkers are so used to change that sometimes they initiate it themselves for no good reason just so they don’t get bored. It was rare to find someone completely content with their existence to the point where they were happy letting it be.
This was mostly because when one finally reached the point of content, the city reached out and slapped them with a good dose of reality. Unbeknownst to Cora, she was one of these cursed few.
As she began her daily morning run in Central Park, iPod blaring some oldie that she wasn’t quite listening to, Cora West couldn’t help but think about how lucky she was. It seemed like everything in her life was going well – she had a great job, great friends, and a great apartment. As the crisp, morning air hit her face, her mouth curved into a smile. It seemed the rain had stopped for at least a little so she could actually get through her run without getting wet. How much better could things get?
Apparently, they couldn’t at all. In fact, they were only going to get worse. As she returned to her apartment building from her run and the clouds began to gather in the morning sky once more, she found what was quite possibly the scariest letter a New Yorker could receive sitting alone in her mailbox.
***
She threw the white, torn envelope down on the table in complete disbelief, a horrified look painted on her face. It took her a moment to speak; it was almost as if she didn’t want to say whatever was on her mind for the fear that it would make the situation real. If she didn't say it out loud, maybe it would all go away and things could be good again. Finally, however, the petite blonde opened her mouth to actually let sound out and put her friend, seated at the table she’d just thrown the mysterious letter on, out of what was probably a rather confused state.
“I’m being evicted from my apartment.”
As the words came out of her mouth, Cora felt her heart sink a little more than it already had when she’d opened the letter that morning. That apartment had been with her since she’d moved to New York and had seen her through a lot: Hangovers, break-ups, make-ups, scary horror films…
The petite blonde slid into the empty chair across from Topher who had, as usual, arrived to their dinner date earlier than her. Cora always took her time in getting ready, so she was seldom on time to her commitments. She figured Topher wouldn’t protest this time, though; they had more pressing matters to discuss. Like, say, the fact that she was homeless. That was the only reason she had asked Topher to meet her at Sushi Samba, her place of employment; she figured that she could either snag a free meal or at least use her employee discount to save a little cash. She was well aware of how lame it was to hang out at her workplace during her off-hours, but at least it wasn’t a totally pathetic place. The sushi bar was actually quite a hotspot in the city.
With a small sigh, Cora began to elaborate. “Apparently, my last two checks have bounced or something – I mean, I knew I wasn’t doing too well financially, but broke? I’m going to have to live in my cashmere wrap from Barney’s or something…” She trailed, heartbroken. Suddenly, she focused her attention on Topher and snpped out of her depressed state. “Oh. And good evening to you.” Although her tone was suddenly upbeat (and slightly sarcstic) it was obvious that she was still broken up over the news. “How was your day?” |
|
topher lane
New Member
citizen [/size][/color]
middle class.[/center]
he goes along just as a water lily ,,
Posts: 19
|
Post by topher lane on Jul 22, 2008 20:47:57 GMT -5
  he's got circular joy ![/font] he's a peculiar boy
It was about four fifteen in the afternoon when Topher woke up from his afternoon nap. He reluctantly sat up, his spine evidently crushed by his still, stiffened muscles while he'd slept. It was merely a cramp, at first, but the pain heightened in intensity as each of his senses were roused. He often wondered if, while getting his appendix taken out a couple of years ago, the doctors and nurses had switched his spine with an old lady's. It seemed Topher didn't realize one can get the same general effect from sleeping on a fainting couch that wasn't constructed for the purpose of sleeping.
And just when he thought the pain is never going to end –
– it doesn't.
He stood up, his left foot catching hold of a particularly glossy (and thus slippery) issue of Geek Monthly. Seeing as his bare feet had been trained merely on hardwood surfaces when first waking up, he lost his footing effortlessly and was promptly pummeled by the accumulating rubbish on the floor surrounding his couch.
Topher landed somewhere within arm's reach of the remote, which he reached for to turn the television set a few notches below blaring. Apparently, he'd fallen asleep to The X-Files, seeing as there was Special Agent Dana Scully, with her Molly Ringwald hair, consulting some other FBI chick about handwriting.
Also, from this level, he could see a sliver of white paper tucked beneath the door to his apartment. A little hesitant to try standing on his feet again, he army-crawled his way to the welcome mat, taking the familiar slip of paper from underneath.
Sushi Samba.
- C
Topher probably should've been paying attention to the television at that moment. As the handwriting specialist was currently explaining to Scully, you could tell almost anything about a person from their handwriting. The fact that Cora was left-handed, for example, or that she held a ball-point pen between her ring finger and thumb to write. But some subtler things could be noticed to, such as the downward slant that indicated a negative aura as she wrote it down.
But, of course, Topher wasn't paying attention, so he had no way of noticing.
***
Twenty minutes later, he was shaved (on his face, you perv), dressed, and bespectacled, sitting at the corner table at the Sushi Samba. He was somewhat spooked by the sudden change in locale – especially considering it was his turn to pick the spot where they'd have dinner. If he'd had his doubtlessly they'd be sitting at Vinny's – the "authentic" 50's diner that so happened to blare rap music – right now, picking at French fries doused in mustard, quietly observing the Satanist couple in the early sixties that frequented the place from across the room. It wasn't that he didn't like the Sushi Samba – okay, maybe it was – but he wasn't looking forward to having to watch the waitress look offended while he barely picked at his brown rice and avocado rolls, for fear of some sort of cross-contamination from raw fish afflicting his innocent little cylinder of grain and deliciousness.
Almost as if God had descended from the heavens and completely erased his train of thought, he could no longer analyze why he was here when she was here. Even if the thoughts were still going, he wouldn't have long before Cora unsheathed a letter from a plain, otherwise unassuming envelope.
Topher's voice – and eyebrows, seeing as even the slightest pop upward was made incredibly obvious by their distinctiveness – assumed an expression of disbelief, "What?"
She continued, giving some short exposition about her financial situation. "That's… I can't believe you'd be the one to be snuffed out when I'm the one who has a functioning Humane Society once a month," he said, fiddling with his unoccupied drink coaster advertising some sort of fancy sake. The conversation abruptly headed his way, but he was quick no make sure the focus stayed on the crisis at hand, painful as it was. "Fine," he replied quickly. "Fine" wasn't the most complete summarization of his day; in fact, he'd had an excellent day. He'd cleared his room of sunflower seeds, learned one of the cartoons he'd been working on in his free time was being published in the New Yorker to illustrate Professor Brooks's article, and had faux-scrambled eggs and spinach for brunch. But his good day wasn't relevant. The mission, should he choose to accept it (and, obviously, he did) was to make sure Cora wasn't spending the night kicking a homeless guy in the shins for his cardboard box to sleep under.
"Cor, what're we going to do?" [/font][/size] |
|
cora west
New Member
junior [/size][/color]
lower middle class.[/center]
Posts: 29
|
Post by cora west on Jul 22, 2008 21:46:08 GMT -5
hot child in the city!running wild and looking pretty
As Topher stared at her in disbelief, his mind obviously trying to formulate some sort of quick-fix solution to her dire situation, Cora took the opportunity to catch the attention of a nearby waitress. ‘Two vodka martinis,’ she mouthed to her, confident that the girl’s mouth-reading skills were strong enough to understand Cora’s desperate plea for alcohol. Luckily they were, because the waitress nodded and headed towards the back to prepare the drink.
Cora's attention returned to Topher after he spoke, giving a shrug a wordless reply. She did speak as well, however. “I guess I’m going to have to find a new place. Problem is, everything that can afford is in The Bronx – and there is no way that I am going to live there. Could you imagine?” She sighed, shaking her head.
“I don’t know. They’re giving me until the end of the week because I guess when I signed the lease I agreed to them reserving the right to terminate my lease at any time. I should really start reading those things. Anyway…it’s pretty much impossible for me to find a place by the end of the week, so basically all I can do is…” Her sentence trailed off as the waitress – someone she occasionally spoke with when she went out back for a cigarette or something – brought her the drinks she’d requested. Cora smiled her thanks, quickly picking up the glass meant for her just before it touched the table. “…is drink.” To illustrate her statement, she took a long sip of the beverage, not even caring that the alcohol was burning a hole in the back of her throat because it was so strong. She swallowed the gulp she’d taken with a little trouble, holding up her glass in what was considered by many to be a celebratory fashion. “Cheers. Hey, maybe if I claim a bench in Central Park from now it’ll be free by Sunday.” It was a bad joke, but she smiled at it anyway.
After what felt like a very long moment, Cora set down the already half-empty drink and continued. “Ugh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you down with this – I just…freaked out. You didn’t have any plans tonight, did you?” She asked with concern, realizing that she’d sort of forcibly made him attend their current dinner date with a mysterious note. And she’s asked him to Sushi Samba no less – a place that he didn’t like very much because of some irrational fear that she’d never quite understood.
“Is it lame that I’m hanging out where I work during my off-hours?” She asked hesitantly, taking another – albeit, smaller – sip of her drink. She never liked to come to Sushi Samba when she wasn’t working because she feared exactly that, so Topher and her usually stuck to one of the city’s many other restaurants. You know, the kind that she could afford. See, Cora preferred to spend her money on clothes and shoes rather than food to keep her alive because it was her personal belief that she shouldn’t have to punish her body to a life of boredom by not dressing it up in the cutest outfits she could find just because her financial situation was less than spectacular (AKA non-existent). Food came in second.
Bags came in third.
|
|
topher lane
New Member
citizen [/size][/color]
middle class.[/center]
he goes along just as a water lily ,,
Posts: 19
|
Post by topher lane on Jul 22, 2008 23:31:17 GMT -5
he's got circular joy ![/font] he's a peculiar boy
Topher stared at the martini placed before him the entire duration of Cora's sip (it was more of a gulp, actually, but given Topher's lack of tolerance for alcohol, his assessment wasn't one based on experience). Even if he wasn't the world's biggest fan of alcohol, when he did decide to drink, the beverages usually didn't come in a glass that looked like it came out of the experimental ceramics classes. "… I, uh, actually don't really want mine," he admitted a little shamefully, given that she'd ordered it with what little money she had to provide for her very-soon-to-be-homeless self. Fortunately for Topher, she didn't seem all that offended – not that he really expected her to be – but on the contrary offered an empty smile and an equally humorless joke. His reflective smile was polite enough, but beneath the feeble façade he was beginning to frazzle. Seeing as he hadn't really formulated a brilliant plan that was plausible (he had, however, considered murdering the landlord and taking her apartment, but seeing as he hadn't seen enough episodes of Dexter for examples as to how to cover that up, it probably wasn't considerable), he averted Cora's gaze expertly and fixed his own on the cute little lemon wedge that formed the shape of a rotini noodle, bobbing in the untouched martini.
Cora was quick to observe his general moroseness. "No, no," he insisted, finally looking back up at her, "it's fine. I'm just… I wish I could think of something. And plans?" he gave her his most skeptical brow, "you usually know my plans before I do. But in case you didn't, you only interrupted a very important date with Agent Scully."
"Only if it's for trying to absorb raw fish smell," Topher gave one of his funny little half-smiles. "Maybe if you really want to be really devoted, you can ask Jude if you can have a bunk in the kitch—" The upturned corner of his mouth fell again, his eyes widening in realization. "Nah," he muttered to himself, adding a more audible, "Okay, I have an idea. It's a little wild. Little crazy. But, hear me out, City Mouse." He leaned forward slightly in preparation, as if the idea that just transpired in the safe confines of his mind would no longer be safe if he verbalized it – perhaps as if someone was wiretapping Sushi Samba and Topher was about to disclose the location of Osama bin Ladin's love shack. [/font][/size]
|
|
cora west
New Member
junior [/size][/color]
lower middle class.[/center]
Posts: 29
|
Post by cora west on Jul 23, 2008 0:39:47 GMT -5
hot child in the city!running wild and looking pretty
“Oh. Right.” Cora shook her head as to shoo her carelessness away, having completely forgotten that Topher didn’t really for martinis. Neither of them were big drinkers to be honest, but Cora considered this a special occasion. She was homeless, therefore allowed to get a little drunk.
Little being an understatement, of course.
Cora pulled the drink towards her, sitting it next to her own almost empty martini glass, not really minding that she would have to consume the drink herself. Hopefully it was free – she didn’t want to pay to get drunk when she had perfectly good alcohol at home (of course, her definition of ‘perfectly good’ was a five year old bottle of Kahlúa). Now that she thought about it, she could have just invited Topher to her apartment…at least then, she could serve day old Chinese food and not have to worry about what she would do if her credit card bounced.
“And plans?” Topher interrupted her thoughts with his voice, stressed the word she’d used earlier. “you usually know my plans before I do. But in case you didn't, you only interrupted a very important date with Agent Scully.”
Cora grinned at the mention of The X-Files, picking up her martini glass. “Oh, damn. Well…she’s had you all day. My turn now. She can hang with Mulder till I get home and steal him away.” She took another sip from the glass, effectively finishing off the first drink. It wasn’t long before she’s picked up the second and already begun to work on finishing that, mentally telling herself that it would definitely be her last for the night. Again, Kahlúa waiting in a dusty box somewhere in her apartment. Maybe in her zombie-attack-survival-closet…
“And Jude’s girlfriend probably wouldn’t appreciate me staying in his apartment, no matter how innocent…” She trailed, despite the fact that he’d cut himself off after a much different realization had hit him. Instead of elaborating, he leaned forward as if to tell her a super-secret, lowering his voice as he began to speak once more.
“Okay, I have an idea. It's a little wild. Little crazy. But, hear me out, City Mouse.” Cora couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at his statement. Their nicknames for each other were so perfect that it was almost surreal. Almost.
“Hey, you know me. I live for crazy. It’s my middle name. You know how I told you it was Kendall? I lied. I’m that crazy.” She grinned. “So, lay it on me Country Mouse.” She leaned forward as well, her eyebrows rising expectantly.
|
|
topher lane
New Member
citizen [/size][/color]
middle class.[/center]
he goes along just as a water lily ,,
Posts: 19
|
Post by topher lane on Jul 24, 2008 22:08:44 GMT -5
he's got circular joy ![/font] he's a peculiar boy
He allowed for a melodramatic pause, almost long enough so that it looked as if Cora was about to add a, "Well?" to her previous statement. In fact, her mouth was only slightly open, lips twisting to let the word out, but one of Topher's few refined skills (and even fewer of those refined skills were applicable to any real world situation) was his impeccable timing. "Well…" he began carefully, "I mean, I've got, what? Two bedrooms. I don't even really use the one that actually has my bed in it for anything but boxes." It was hard to remember any sort of time when it hadn't been thus, but there was a point when, in spite of the fact that he never used it, he managed to keep it a little tidy. It was probably the same point in history where he entertained the idea of entertaining lady-friends. Which was probably at some point in the Mesozoic Era, so you can imagine the thick layers of sediment and junk that accumulate in the million or so years since he'd thought of bringing a girl home. Luckily, he wasn't exactly talking to Kim and Aggie from How Clean Is Your House? Cora embraced household yuckiness, so she probably wouldn't decline his offer – at least not on the grounds of the inability to live in filth. But he kind of had to ask her first.
"You could haul your mass of stuff over to my place… and, well, you wouldn't have to worry about financial problems any more, seeing as you'd be paying half the rent you used to." Topher was disturbed by the fact that his tone was growing more careless and sounding as if he was almost pleading a little. Only a little, though. Nothing that an unappetizing clearing of his throat couldn't cure. So he coughed a little into his fist to muffle the sound, and continued, "And, hey, on top of all that, we'd only have to move all your crap up one floor. And we have until Monday. But, that is of course assuming you're crazy enough to want to actually, you know, move in."
So, there was his offer. And now that it hung in the air, awaiting Cora's reply, he suddenly wished he hadn't declined that martini. [/font][/size]
|
|
|
|
Post by wowposter on Nov 8, 2008 9:39:58 GMT -5
|
|
|
|
Post by omovuripiodid on May 18, 2019 5:08:48 GMT -5
|
|
|
|
Post by ucujihufah on May 18, 2019 6:55:49 GMT -5
|
|
