1

Laura

The diner was quiet and dark and the only light in here was the dimming light from the kitchen gas...uhmm...intended exergeration.

The diner had almost lost its frequent bubbly spirit that moved the enthusiasm to a whole higher level.

I sighed before turning the gas off.

"Hey, Peter. I bet I'll be clocking out now."

I took my apron off and waited for Peter's response who had just walked into the pantry only a few seconds ago.

"Peter," I called out but got no response.

I walked to the pantry and as I pushed the door open, walking a little deeper, I instantly froze in my stance with my heartbeat frozen as well while I stared in horror at Peter and he stared back at me, except his stare held no life.

"Peter!!!" I finally broke the internal cord that tied my voice.

I rushed to him, kneeling on the pool of blood with my trembling hands moving slowly to his bloody face.

I whimpered, slowly lowering my head to his bloody shirt to listen to his heartbeat and there was none.

I rushed up to my feet, backing up from him, and shaking my head.

"No."

I cried, trembling before rushing out to grab my phone to call for an ambulance but as I raised my hand to my ear with my phone in hand, a familiar smell hit my nostrils.

I sniffled back my tears before lowering my hand and taking it closer to my nostrils.

Ketchup.

It smelled like ketchup.

I wiped my face and hurried to the pantry only to find Peter on his feet.

"Hey, Laura," he said casually as though he wasn't just on the floor dead a few seconds ago.

I stared at him, strolling my eyes from his head down to his toes as if I had just seen a ghost which hypothetically, I was seeing.

"Wha...what?"

He stood still, staring at me before bursting out in laughter. A hysterical one.

"What the hell? What happened? What the fuck is going on?" I rushed the questions out and he moved closer to me but I took two steps backward.

"You need to see your face right now."

I shook my head before speaking again. "You were just dead just now! How the hell are you back on your feet?"

"It's barbeque sauce mixed with ketchup."

"What?"

"I mean the blood. It wasn't real."

"What?"

"I was just bored since we had no customer and I wanted to give life."

Except you played dead motherfucker!

"And you thought playing dead was gonna be fun?"

"I mean, look at me. I'm dying from laughter." he laughed again.

I let out a frustrated breath before ruffling my hair.

"You're an asshole, a lunatic and that's why no one wanna speak to you, hang out with you or even stay the late night shift with you 'cause you're a weirdo!" I rushed the words out angrily without minding his feelings.

I watched as the look on his face dropped and he stared at the floor for a few seconds before turning around to clean the floor.

I breathed rasply when I heard the front door open.

"Hello. I'd like a box of pizza with no pepperoni and little cheese."

*****

On my way to the kitchen to make a cup of tea after my annoyingly long night, an envelope slid halfway under the door. I furrowed my eyebrow but picked the letter up.

My confusion grew as I saw the title on the envelope, written in one of the best ink I have ever seen. Letter to Laura George.

I unlocked the door, poking my head out a bit, scanning my left and my right but saw no one. I tilted my head, uncertain if the letter was indeed for me.

Without much deliberation, I hopped on the stairs in twos to my room and immediately jumped in my bed.

"Let's see what we've got here, Laura George," I managed a crooked smile.

As I scrolled my eyes through the words and read through the first line, I dropped the letter and stared blankly at the ceiling.

"With the memories of that night still lingering in my head, I write to you..."

"Uhmm... excuse me!!" I cleared my throat. "That night? What night?" I asked rhetorically before resuming the in-depth words.

"With the memories of that night still lingering in my head, I write to you about how impactful our encounter has affected me, positively I should add.

You were like a dandelion amid daisies, that is, many beautiful ladies were present but you stood out in your enormous beauty that struck me like lightning, making my tux as hot and choking as the bow tie.

Must I additionally commend your dress, the way its straps hang on your shoulders and how immaculate the colour suits your skin.

I do not want to flatter you. Hell, these are not flattery words but words that reside within the confinement of my heart to the person at the other end, reading this letter.

Another lingering thought that has failed to evade my head and my heart is your glittering eyes and your soft smile. The way your voice slid through your throat and cautiously slipped out of your fine lips caught my heart.

I have since pondered on what memories that night holds for you and if I must be delusional that it holds as much meaning to you as they do to me. That would be too much of me to think, I know."

I paused the reading. There was too much going on.

"This is most certainly not a letter to be given or written to me."

I tried to think of the last time I went on a date or met a man who could be this crazy about me and the only time I could think of was the time I got locked up in the science lab with my science partner. If that could be considered as a date or whatever.

I looked at the envelope accompanying the letter to see if I'd get any clue but there was none.

It was plain with just the words Letter to Laura George written on it.

"But this reads my name!"

I was puzzled but resumed reading even though it felt as though I was intruding on some privacy between lovers.

"I believe you'd wonder why I write to you. I have thought about that myself but this was the only means of communication I can think of since the only information you gave me about yourself was your name. We've only met once and it was brief. I have countless times stopped myself but my heart keeps making me believe this is love at first sight.

However, you can choose to ignore my heart to you or do me the honour of contact through my phone number [phone]. I hope to hear from you soon or whenever you feel so.

Yours."

I dropped the letter by my lamp stand and lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"I wish it was me. I wish those words were directed at me." I felt a slight sense of loneliness which I managed to quickly wave off.

"I'd just let him know he got the wrong Laura George and go on about my lonely life."