He preferred it that way. It was safer.
Killian's life was also nondescript and bland. He awoke at the same time each day, showered and dressed, fed his cat Socrates, and walked the 10 blocks to his office. On the way he stopped at the local coffee shop and ordered a black coffee and a bran muffin. He sat at a small table in the back corner of the shop and read the newspaper while he ate his muffin. The same routine, every day, except for Sundays. Killian never had to think about what he was going to wear or what he was going to do; it was already decided. There was comfort in that routine, and a sense of safety as well.
"Hello handsome!"
Killian looked up from his newspaper, uncertain. An icy blonde woman with a fake tan and brilliant blue eyes stood in front of him. She pointed to the seat across from him.
"Mind if I sit down?" Her voice rolled in like the tide, a swelling intonation that broke over him. He was speechless. Not waiting for a response, the woman pulled out the chair and sat. She put her elbows on the table and leaned toward Killian, who leaned back in his chair. He was not sure what to do, but he was only halfway through his muffin. If he didn't finish it, he'd be regretting it all day.
"Name's Sam," she said, her smile catching a beam of sunlight like water. "What's your name, sailor?"
"Um...it's Killian," he coughed a little, not used to speaking to other people. "But I'm not a sailor."
"Ah, Killian, does it really matter that you're not a sailor now?" Sam winked at him, her eyes dancing like ocean waves. "You could fall in love with the sea tomorrow!"
"Uh...right." Killian did not know what to say. He hadn't been to the beach in years, not since he was a small child. He didn't even know how to swim. He wasn't sure how he was going to fall in love with the sea, or why. But at the sound of Sam's words, Killian's heart expanded. The sea was calling to him. He could smell the salt, hear the gulls crying, and feel the roll of the waves underneath the deck of a ship. He stared at the half piece of bran muffin, wondering if the barista would wrap it for him to go.
He could already tell that his life was never going to be the same.
"The third day comes a frost, a killing frost." Shakespeare. When I read this, I didn't have my glasses on, and so I read it as "killian frost" instead of 'killing frost'. I liked the name. I've also always wanted a cat named Socrates, but he hasn't shown up yet, except here. Constructive criticism is most welcome.
