| Sep. 20th, 2008 @ 05:08 pm Third Person Closed |
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It wasn't a seven. Today was one of those days when he was going to have to keep reminding himself of that. It had started when - after failed attempts with a bathtub, the kitchen sink and a glass of water - he'd decided to see if he could fire his gift again down at the beach. He'd sat near the edge and started small, encouraging the tiniest little bit of the shore line not to progress along the beach with the rest and slowly widening his influence until the patch was about as wide as his hand.
He hadn't been there long when he felt himself get sleepy and he'd decided to call it a day, heading for the nearest place that did coffee and trying to convince himself he'd really done it, Tampa couldn't have; Today was a zero, not a seven.
Then halfway back he'd bumped into the most significant of his exes, a guy he'd been with two years and who'd cheated on him - just once - and caused the end of their relationship. He'd found himself walking and talking with him and then being quietly flirted with, had politely but firmly given him the brush off but it had tied up a lot of loose ends, helped him let a lot of things go.
But. Definitely a zero, not a seven.
He was barely back in the apartment - now-empty coffee cup in the recycling - when the doorbell rang. Robin was out but Robin had keys, and he wasn't expecting any body. He'd frowned slightly to himself and gone to answer it, stopping and staring when he saw who was there.
"Mom?"
Maybe he'd got the date wrong after all. |
