maya okada

It was one of those nights when you were probably best off leaving Benji alone. And he was actually pretty glad that most people in this town already knew him long enough to recognize that tonight was one of those nights. He had sat at the far end of the bar for quite some time now with a now half-empty bottle of beer in front of him, doing what he knew his friends would probably call ‘sulking’ or something like that. Benji knew that by now he should probably over the fact that he hadn’t been able to continue playing football at the highest level and that he should focus on the future instead of looking back but sometimes he couldn’t help it but wonder about what could have been. He was just about to take another sip of his beer, when he noticed someone sitting down on the bar stool next to him. “Although you probably should have been able to figure that out yourself but I’m afraid that if you’re looking for some fun company, you’re wrong over here…”, he only mumbled, not even glancing sideways as he pretty much expected the person to get up again anyway.

where: Anywhere

Carleigha smiled softly as she made her way through the park. The weather seemed to have a mind of its own lately but today it was nice. With a series of appointments under her belt this morning she’d taken the day off and was welcoming the chance to enjoy the warm weather and fresh air. Strolling along the path her eyes scanned the benches for an open space when her eyes pause on a familiar face. A blast from the past. Making her way over paused in front of the other woman. “Maya? Is that you?” 

“god dammit!” the exclamation follows a swift kick to the side of beloved (at least, most of the time)  chevvy. a rather old car, purchased back in the early 2000′s, a now orangey shade of brown — she’d always refused to replace it. “piece of shit car…” layla leans back to sit against the edge of the bonnet, slumping forward, the rather tenebrous waft of dark grey smoke bellowing from the gap of the bonnet lid — a wince ensues. she weighs the cost in her head, to call a tow truck and get it repaired, or send the tow on a detour to send the piece of shit to it’s maker in a tight crushed cube. amidst her internal argument between sentimentality and having a functioning reliable vehicle, she hears the drag of wheels grinding to a holt behind her parked chevvy. “i know, it looks bad —” holding her hands up in front of her chest, as if surrounding, “i don’t know know shit about repairing a truck, was just about to call a tow.”

Tony tugged on the strands of hair that brushed against his chin. He was due for a haircut and an updated dye job. The pink he’d added in the beginning of the summer had since faded out, the time spent in the ocean leeching the color until there wasn’t even a pale hint of it’s former vibrant glory. If his father saw him now, he knew Edgar would roll his eyes. The man seemed to appreciate his son’s self expression, but made it clear that he believed Tony lacked any sense of professionalism. “So,” he began, turning to the person beside him, “I obviously need to do something about this.” He tugged on the strands again for emphasis. “But I don’t know what. Got any suggestions?”

“Question, what’s the appropriate response when someone says they want to give you a pearl necklace? like it’s an odd form of jewelry to offer, but I don’t know if it would look good on me.”