a home and a hideaway [diesel x montana blitz] // tom

It's been slow today.

Soft fist to my mouth and the other hand open and drumming on the surface, I fixate on the crimson curtain across from me to my right; sheer lace revealing specks of romantic white raining behind the glass.

She had left to dress the place in more of the two colors alongside green, liven it up with the festive spirit that the times of cold brought along with it, so right now it's just me. Pendulum digits dance in harmony with the ticks of the wall clock, the only sounds filling the silence that I'm otherwise left to suffocate in without any company.

Maybe it was meant to be. Maybe that's all I'm meant for in the end, and though it's not an experience I'm not used to there's still a dull aching in my heart from going through it all the same.

I don't think I was ever in alignment with the jolliness of this time of year, and in this one it'll be no different.

It's never going to be different.

"Goddamn it all," a mutter from bitter lips, hands picking up the stack of cards before me and flipping through them to kill the future minutes in a countdown before she comes back, or a customer comes in. Somebody.

I'm better off not waiting, though, and just doing it for my own entertainment's sake. Expectations can make or break a person after all,

and for me they are a crumpled fortress that I still cling to the debris of in desperation.

Easier said than done.

I can't let anybody else see right through me. Yet, I'm begging for the right person to.

Can't stop myself from wishing, yet I refuse to follow the path these decorative fortunes lay out for me.

Goddamn it all.

It's all a waste.

"I hate Christmas."