#queenofanythingsd

''You weren't here. I'll be at the bar waiting for you. -Diego'' read the note he left on her door after having knocked for 5 straight minutes. He wasn't about to leave his backpack with his ipad for someone to snatch it, he'd wait for her; it's not like he had anything more important to do. Life seemed slow, dull, sepia toned, back in San Diego, worse than a first day in school or at a new job.  He had no intentions of consuming anything, he had even brought his own coffee to avoid temptation. He wasn't necessarily tired or felt the need to sleep but he yawned anyway, his body language always reflecting his emotions. Slumped in a sofa for one, he listened to the recording of his lines he had done earlier for a new movie. It was a tactic he picked up early on in his career as an actor. This way he could study his dialogue like a song, slowly introducing emotions into it the more he repeated the audio file.  He couldn't concentrate, he refused to listen to his own voice feed him comedic lines. Was Sara mad at him? Was she avoiding him? What if she saw him there already and ran? ''Naah...'' he shrugged, drinking his coffee slowly. He had forgotten how much he hated California in general. 

In spite of all that, I cant just forget my ...I dont know Sara. Maybe this is a conversation we should have in person. 

Nope not really, Lisa is short and it's Hebrew... I always loved it. Sorry to disappoint, I sure could have done with a shorter last name though.

He knocked twice once outside of her door. No bullshit this time. He had taken the earlier hours to shower, shave and change; most importantly to calm his nerves, smoke a little and grow a pair. He brought coffee again, this time in a glass bottle with a screw cap, the Starbucks kind.  He knocked again. If she didn't answer he'll leave her alone, leave it at peace. 

Outside of the written address, Sam held the napkin tightly in his hand. Purse under his arm. Baring the same clothes as last night.  He knocked on the completely white typical hotel room door. It reminded him of how often he had to paint the lower part of his old door, his dog having scratched it to pieces every time he or she left the house.   He missed his dog. He most definitely missed her. Leaving the coffee he brought Sara on the floor, he jumped a couple times to pump some energy back into him and drain the memories that could only  ruin his time with his friend. 

Leaving the mess he had made earlier in the bathroom, after his tantrum, intact; Sam stood 10 minutes earlier in the previously set waiting spot in front of the Starbucks. He wore a black classic tuxedo, white shirt and a purple power bow tie that matched his socks and fingerless knitted gloves. He sat on the sidewalk almost motionless, arms crossed, a feeling of regret started to come over him. Coming back to California wasn't an easy decision and it certainly doesn't feel like the right, especially now. Where everywhere he looks, he finds the past, the destruction, the horror of everything he lost.  Lost? I lost my watch, that's what I lost! He reminded himself, to cover up these uprising thoughts. Anything that indicated the proper time was left in his hotel room, including his phone, to him it could be sunrise or sunset. It's all part of a carefree mindset, he reassures himself.