Missed appointments -5minutefreewrite... no, 15 minute freewrite (and then some)

For https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/day-782-5-minute-freewrite-wednesday-prompt-broken-toenail

https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/day-783-5-minute-freewrite-thursday-prompt-appointment-book

and

https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/day-784-5-minute-freewrite-friday-prompt-twist-and-turn

We’ll see if we can write a story with all kinds of twists and turns.

Cheyenne hobbled from the shop to the curb. What a frustrating bit of agony to top off her frustrating day. When her appointment book went missing, she’d thought that wouldn’t throw her off too much, but lo and behold, she kept nothing in her brain. She’d rushed from place to place, always late, just waiting for the next people expecting her to call and ask where she was, was she still going to show up? And who even knew if there were appointments missed entirely because they’d given up on her without even a “how do you do?” At the end of it all, she remembered on her own, and with great relief, that there was a final task. She was feeling like the clouds were finally lifting on the day as she remembered that there was a cake that she had already ordered and just needed to pick up waiting for her at Le Champ de Bakerie. Kevin would be so pleased with this cake. It had all the germanness of a Schwartzwaldkirschtorte, and none of the gluten. He’d be able to eat it with gusto, no fear, and all the joy of a beloved girlfriend offering her beloved his most beloved food.

And then the damn day had made her so late the door had been closed, locked, and bolted, with a sign that said, “Sorry, we’re closed” in the most impersonal script that any font designer could have imagined.

So she’d kicked the damn door in sandals. And broken her toenail. Oh for crying out loud. That pain rushing to her amigdala let her forget propriety for a moment and scream the scream that had been bottled up all day long.

Cheyenne stood, red-faced and pained at the curb.

And Kevin drove up. And he was smiling. Until he saw her tears. Then he put it in park, got out of the car, and went to Cheyenne. He offered to hold her, but seeing the bright red oozing from her toe, he instead whipped out his always-handy first aid kit, applied neosporin and a band-aid, and gently kissed the boo-boo. The pain didn’t lessen, but Cheyenne smiled anyways, and the smile made everything feel a little less dire.

Kevin opened the car door, they got in, and Cheyenne began to tell him about her day. Kevin listened.

When she finally reached the part about the cake, Kevin smiled. “I have the cake.” He gestured to the back seat. “The bakery didn’t have your number right. They called mine just before they closed. It’s a good thing we bonded over having similar numbers. What would have happened if you’d been dating someone with an entirely different number. I knew you were stressing today, so I picked it up. I tried calling you, but I guess your phone died? I figured you’d be here at the end of the day.”

He explained very thoroughly. Clearly.

So, all the problems were solved, thought Cheyenne. Except… she still didn’t have her appointment book. What would tomorrow bring?

Agony. Kevin and Cheyenne ate the cake together, hunched over the parking break, trying to brainstorm what she’d be missing tomorrow. She charged her phone. Kevin tried to persuade her again to use google calendar, and she was sorely tempted, but there were more urgent problems to be solved.

With a list of possible and probable interview locations, people, and times in mind, they drove home, reclined their seats, and did their best to get comfortable.

Home for Kevin and Cheyenne (photo credit me)