Ignoring both his laptop and his cell phone, David headed for the fridge. Having led a pretty stressing life over the last few weeks, he had largely neglected shopping for groceries, stopping by the shop every once in a while to pick up a few items rather than to do all his shopping for household necessities at once. And the only thing that opening the door to his fridge brought with it was to remind him of how pathetic the inside of it looked, bringing back the memories of how his breakfast that morning had been the last OJ and some cereal lightly sprinkled with the last of the milk.
Recoiling at the prospect of having pickles and mayonnaise for lunch, which was the only thing that his kitchen could produce as it were, David closed the fridge-door and headed out of his apartment, at first making sure to pack his laptop and the journal into his courier bag before stepping out into the hallway and hurrying out onto the street.
The house in which he lived was an old three-story brick building which had been converted to an apartment building sometime during the last century, and the other tenants were predominantly young and single.
Since it was a beautiful and sunny day, David chose not to head round behind the house and jump into his trusty old Ford Fiesta but instead move about on foot. Since he had gotten a lot less coffee that morning than he would have liked, he had managed to scrape enough for one cup out of the last pack he had left, David’s first destination was the Jones Pub and Grill on Main Street, a few hundred yards away from his house.
The Pub and Grill was usually a place which David attended one or two evenings per week, particularly when the NHL playoffs got started, but he rarely went there during the day.
Upon entering the Pub and Grill, David found it to be largely abandoned of any customers, although at least the doors were open, and that Miranda was tending the bar.
“Good morning Miranda,” David greeted Miranda with a thin smile as he stepped up towards the counter. David didn’t really have any great preferences when it came to women; so far during his life he had found himself attracted to or in love with blondes, brunettes and redheads, skinny girls, voluptuous girls, leggy girls, tomboys and the somewhat plump girls and had at been in relationships with girls of four different distinct ethnicities. His mother, despite her never voicing any regrets about marrying a gentile, had been particularly fond of Sarah, David’s Jewish college girlfriend. It had even gone so far as a brief engagement before the whole thing ended due to Sarah getting her dream job, which would have been great, had it not been in the Netherlands.
However, despite being quite flexible about what he liked in a woman, David had to admit to himself that Miranda’s chest was truly something to behold; the pair of round globes standing out from her otherwise slim frame in a manner which seemed to defy all conventional understanding of how gravity was supposed to work. Looking at her made him wonder if he had stumbled into one his pubescent self’s wet dreams.
“Hello Miranda,” David greeted the ridiculously pretty bartender and waitress again after she had failed to respond to him the first time, noticing that she was looking somewhat flustered.
“Are you alright?” He asked her as he took a seat on one of the stools.
“Hi David,” Miranda began, appearing to have been lost in her thoughts, her hands adjusting her low cut white shirt so that she inadvertently revealed more of her cleavage, “Yeah, I’m fine…”
“You sure?”
“Yeah… yeah,” Miranda responded dreamily, adjusting her low-cut shirt in a manner which drew David’s gaze to her neckline, “what brings you here this early?”
“Out of coffee,” David sheepishly replied, after going through the usual process of mustering the strength of will required not to admire Miranda’s chest too openly, and feeling thankful for the fact that she hadn’t been one of his students.
“I’ll pour you a cup,” Miranda flashed David a smile and then walked over to the coffeemaker, “I would have been worried if you’d ordered a beer.”
“Heh,” David grinned at Miranda’s comment, adding a “thanks” when she handed him a cup filled almost to the brim with steaming hot coffee.
“Where’s Melissa?” As innocent as his question had been, David observed that it caused Miranda’s cheeks to redden.
“Uh, she’s downstairs,” Miranda managed to reply, after a few seconds of silence.
“Right,” David was startled by Miranda’s behaviour and nodded at a nearby table, “I’ll just go take a seat over there.”
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