Grasping at Gold, ch. 3: Questions“So, how do you feel about coffee?”Grasping at Gold, ch. 3: Questions by Puckish-Elf
Zedekiah gave Mikkey a bland look. She already knew the answer to that question.
“Ah, heh…” The barista gave the blond a sheepish look, scrubbing a hand through the poof that her early-morning curls had become. “Right. Amnesia. No experience. Well. Thankfully, you’re about to get the experience of first-rate French press. Brace yourself.”
Ten minutes and a flurry of flitting around the kitchen later, the two sat at the kitchen bar, a mug of steaming French press in front of each of them, along with a bowl of instant apple-cinnamon oatmeal and a banana for each.
They ate in silence as the late morning sun played with the dust motes floating about the living room. Mikkey was hungry, and Zedekiah was just silent. His ID sat on the countertop between their two bowls. Mikkey stole glances it and Zedekiah’s face in turns. The
Grasping at Gold, ch. 2: HavenHer lips quirked, chestnut eyes narrowed in a flat stare. She flipped the ID card over one knuckle, over the next, and then snatched it between her thumb and forefinger.Grasping at Gold, ch. 2: Haven by Puckish-Elf
“So you didn’t even bother to check your own wallet?”
He failed to meet her stare, his dark-eyed gaze drifting sideways and down to the floor.
“How long has it been since you lost your memories?”
Mikkey winced and puffed out a sigh. “Well, alright, that explains a lot.” She managed to look embarrassed, but not exactly apologetic. “So your driver’s license says your name is Zedekiah Rhett. Ring any bells?”
She received a blank stare in return for the gift of a name.
“I’m guessing that’s a no, then.”
Another blank look.
“And I’m guessing you don’t remember how you got the shit beat out of you?
May God bless every one of you that come visit my page!
I'm a slightly deranged girl with FAR too many voices in my head vying for attention. X3
I draw, I paint, I write, I do crafts (you just don't see those here). All of it is art, and that I what I do. Sometimes I make sense...more often times I do not...at least to the world of humanity at large. But hey, if you know me, you understand my brand of sense, that's good enough for me!
Current Residence: Nowhere and Neverwhen,
Favourite style of art: any that can be called art
Personal Quote: Oh, I broke a long time ago. No one just ever bothered to fix me.
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