{She sewed the button onto her red cardigan, thinking to
herself how lovingly she had bought it from the vintage store and now it just
hung in the back of her wardrobe like the shameful face of a cheating lover.
Sighing, she looked at the other torn threads. Why did she buy a cheap little
cardigan with no buttons?
She must get rid of her DIY fixation soon.
Then the door bell rang making her prick her index finger
with the needle, as was tradition.
Sucking on her finger, her feet circled around looking
for the slippers.
The doorbell rang a second time.
"Yes yes I'm coming!" Something about the bell
ringing more than once in a minute made her temples throb.
Her feet gave up their losing treasure hunt and she begun
walking towards the door, tip-toeing, careful to make as little contact with
the floor as possible.
As she opened the door, on the other side stood the pizza
delivery guy. He wasn't entirely bothered with the restlessness that resonated
in her voice. All he cared about was that he got the pizza to her in one
piece... or 6, and she gave him a nice tip.
A picture of complete lack of grace, balancing herself on
her toes and some faith, she took her pizza, thanking the guy for being such a
peach. She handed out a $5 bill as he beamed.
Closing the door, she returned to her table and lay the
pizza box, casting the cardigan aside.
And then she saw them. Chili flakes. Stuck shamelessly at
the edging of the box along with paper napkins.
She hated chili flakes. And he loved them.
The red cardigan will suffer brutal sewing torment.}
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