The Past Awakened/ Distorted Reality book 1

*You can find this story in full on Tapas and Wattpad

Typing away on my laptop, my goal is to get this post done today. I'm running late on my deadline. Usually I try to get a blog post published twice a week, but this week has been a bit off. Still, I persist to stay on schedule. Blogging is something I found more enjoyable than doing the jobs I had before. Something where I don't have to worry about others' rules and I get the freedom to build the structure that works best for me. Where my bad days can happen without fear that I have to push myself to do something that feels overwhelming or too hard in those moments. So being my own boss in a way is what I knew I wanted to strive for.

I started a blog called Walking every day with Christ as a way to help reach that. It took a couple of years, but now I'm able to finally live comfortably off of it. I managed to quit working in a grocery store altogether about eight months back. It was hard at first, but your past can teach you how to be resilient even when times are hard.

Grabbing my coffee and about to take another sip, it’s already finished. I've been trying to cut back, but today's not going to be the day.

I'm going to need another.

Picturing how I'm wanting to finish this post, I let the words flow first and wait on a refill until I head out for the day. This week I'm writing about the struggles of overcoming anxiety, or more so, learning to deal with it with the help of scripture and prayer. Though a hard practice when you are in the middle of an attack, I have found with practice, it does help.

Once the post is done, I save to edit later today, and gather my things to head on my way. Making sure to grab a new coffee before I leave.

At the counter, I notice a gentleman at a table several feet away to my left. I watch him from the corner of my eye as he keeps checking me out. Though he is attractive with his medium brown hair and slightly tan complexion, his attention makes me nervous.

Why does he keep looking at me?

‘You’re just being paranoid.’

Paranoid or not, what is his interest in me? Is there something on my clothes? Is my skirt bunched up?

No, then what?

‘Ignore him. You’re about to be gone anyway.’

Trying not to look back, I get my coffee and head out. Not noticing his location changing, it's only when he runs into me that I do. Coffee spills onto my combat-style boots. Thankfully, them being water-resistant, the coffee simply runs off the surface and doesn't seep into the boots themselves.

His voice is set in a deep tenor tone when he speaks.

"I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

He stands a few inches taller than me, and I meet his hazel-colored eyes for a quick second when looking up at him. I’m not one to find it easy to talk to strangers, so it takes me a moment to respond.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

I feel his eyes glance over me and notice him smile.

"What if I buy you a new one?"

Nervous, my anxiety makes me feel uncomfortable at the moment. I’m used to men's attention on occasion, but it's usually that of a gross way. His, though, doesn't seem to be.

The handsome stranger speaks up again.

"What do you say?"

Taking a chance on him, "Sure." I can't muscle through to say anything more at the moment.

Walking to the counter I keep a slight space between the two of us. Taking glances at him every so often as I try to figure him out.

With our coffee ordered, we wait and he begins to try to exchange information.

"My name's Matt, what's your's?"

"Madison."

Keeping my answers short, he's the one that does most of the talking.

"Well, Madison, what do you do for a living? I'm going to guess a writer or blogger by how often I see you here."

His statement confirms my assumption that he ran into me purposely.

If he has seen me here enough times to say that I come here often then it's less likely a coincidence and more than likely that it was a purposeful move to spill my coffee.

Not necessarily mad, but baffled, I don't understand why he didn't try a different approach to introduce himself to me. Surely there are better ways.

Lightening up with the more words we exchange, my response comes easier.

"Well, you guessed right. I'm a blogger."

Handing him back his question, my curiosity about him grows.

"What do you do?"

Matt is hesitant with his response, and something about it doesn't seem genuine.

"I'm a photographer."

Our order is called, and I notice something of disappointment come onto his face. Or is that frustration?

"Well, I guess, I'll see you later?"

About to pick up my coffee to leave, he grabs it before I can.

"Wait! Here's my number. You should text me sometime."

He hands me my cup, and I scan over his handwriting before smiling up at him. Noticing freckles on his face that I didn't pay attention to before. They're cute and make him seem younger in a way.

Responding one last time, "I'll do that." I head to the door.