An Unknown Love

Flash Fiction at it's most depressing.

Shane was never really good with girls. He was so bad in fact that once, when he was in tenth grade, there was new girl at his school. She was very attractive. Randy Garland saw him talking to her at lunch and made the comment later that the girl was, in fact, so hot that even Shane had tried to talk to her. Even Shane. Like, why would he not? She was 15 and built like a stripper. Why would he not?

No, Shane was not the Romeo-esque heart throb that he wanted to be. Most of his dating life was done in his mind while he had nothing else to think about. Mainly in the shower or in the hour that it took him to fall asleep every night.

So three days ago, when he found himself standing in front of the cashier at Starbucks, it was at great surprise to himself that the words “How would you like to go out with me this Friday?” tumbled out of his mouth without permission from his brain. What was even more of a surprise was the blushing twenty-something saying “I work on Friday but I’m free the rest of the weekend.” Shane was so shocked that he had walked halfway down the block before running back because they had never exchanged information.

That was ages ago. Today was the one that mattered. Shane shook with excitement as he arrived at the Maggiano’s. It seemed Brittney had not arrived yet. He let the hostess know that he was expecting someone and took a table. His text message went unanswered so he ordered a glass of wine. Then he ordered his fourth glass. Stupid b***h. Why did he even think that anyone would want to date him? Especially a girl as beautiful as Brittney. She was probably at home laughing with her friends now. They were doubtlessly slamming their dainty little fingers onto the glass screens over the letters LOL. Many a ‘crying of laughter’ emoji was thrown into cyberspace at Shane’s expense. He finished his drink, payed the bill, and ignored the waitress’ inquiry about the person joining him.

The only thing that slowed Shane’s travel home was a stop the local supermarket for a 12-pack of Miller Lite. With the only light in his apartment coming from the television Shane drank until he succumbed to a twelve-hour slumber.

Meanwhile, somewhere across town Brittney’s mother had knocked on the bathroom door for the last time. Her daughter had been in there forever. She wedged a butter knife into the space between the lock and the door frame before pushing the door open.

“Brittney what the hell are you-”

The sound of the knife hitting linoleum lost out to an ear-splitting scream. Brittney never heard the scream.