Chapter 4: Half Empty

Every once and a while, you get the feeling that life isn't worth it. Is there really a point to it all? 99.999% of the people who are born will be forgotten a few decades after they die. Only that select 0.001 percent of the been-borns and to-be-borns will ever make a difference. So, who's the lucky few? Are you? Am I? Probably not. But maybe there is no point; maybe life isn't meant to have a point. Maybe life is meant to be lived as best you can, and as happily as you can. If you touch one person, you touch the world, right? That's sometimes. Sometimes, the cup is half full. Other times, most of the time, the cup is half empty.

The next morning, I awoke to find Chase sitting on a chair in the corner of my room. I lay there for a moment, studying his face. He was asleep I knew, but his eyes were wide open. I'd heard of people like that before, but had never seen one. It was unnerving actually. It looked like he was looking at me, only he wasn't.

I trusted him, for some odd reason or another, not to steal any of my things. From his car, which I hadn't really noticed the night before but remembered now, and his clothes, I had the feeling that Chase was much more affluent than I. There was no reason for him to steal any of my things, so, when I left to go to my part-time job at one of the many NYC tiny bookstores, I let him sleep. I assumed that he would leave when he woke up and realized I wasn't there.

Work was as usual. Not many people came into the store, so I got a chance to sit and read my current book. Of all of Chuck Palanhiuk's books, Lullaby was the only one I hadn’t read up to that point. It may not have been my favorite Palanhiuk work, but it was certainly as good as the rest. I finished it about halfway into my first shift, and so decided to pick another. I wandered around the store for a while, looking for a new book, until I heard the door chime. I quickly scrambled to the cash register and flew into my chair, rolling it a good few inches across the floor. By the time I had settled myself behind the counter, with my hands clasped in front of me, the person who had come in the door had reached the counter. I looked up and gasped. It was, of course, Chase.

"Nice to see you too Stella," Chase remarked.

"How did you get here?" I stuttered, mouth still hanging wide open and eyes still five feet out of their sockets. Chase shook his head, reached over, and gently pushed up my jaw. It dropped open again immediately after he took his hand away. This caused Chase to start laughing hysterically. He was practically rolling around on the floor with splits down his side. Eventually I realized what my mouth was doing, and smacked it shut. Too hard though; my teeth smashed against each other and slid around in my mouth. "Jesus," I muttered, rubbing my jaw with one hand. I bent over the table and, with my other hand, slapped Chase on the face. This got him to stop laughing, and he was immediately standing at attention in front of the desk. "Now, what can I do for you sir?" I asked, trying to sound professional.

"I was actually looking for a specific book. Do you think you could direct me to where it might be?" Chase asked, a completely stoic look on his face. If I hadn't been here moments before, I wouldn't have any idea that he had just been laughing his ass off.

"Of course sir. What book were you looking for?" My face was not quite as stoic as his, but I was trying. Chase replied with some random book name. I can't really remember it now; I doubt that it was anything he really wanted.

"Alright sir. I believe we have just the book you're looking for. Come this way?"

Now, for the next few paragraphs, please suspend all of your prejudices against stereotypical romance novel shit, and remember that this is not a romance novel. Now, let us continue.

So we walked around the store for a minute, with me pretending like I knew what I was doing while trying to think of where that book could be, and Chase following obediently behind me, knowing exactly what was going on. The owner of the bookstore, whose name I can't really remember, had a quirky way of organizing his books. I don't remember what that was either, but it had something to do with the age of the author when they wrote that particular book, plus 34, minus the number of the month of their zodiac, or something like that. I tried to do the calculations in my head, something I had become good at after working at the bookstore for a few months, and immediately turned from the course I was taking and went back the other way. "So sorry sir. The books in this store are organized rather strangely; I just got confused."

"That's alright ma'am. I'm in no hurry." We walked back to where we had started, the desk, and then went straight back from there until we reached the very last shelf in the store.

"Well, here it is sir. The book should be on this shelf somewhere, probably on this side," I said, motioning to the side that faced the back wall of the store. "Is there anything else you might need?"

"Well, you did say the books here are organized strangely. Do you think you could help me find the book on this shelf?" Chase asked, smiling one of those 'please help me' smiles that people often use. Even if I hadn't known the man, this look on him was so completely adorable that I wouldn't have been able to resist. Even I, the resident 'I hate men, I will never get involved with one' woman felt like swooning. I still supported my theory that he had hundreds of thousands of illegitimate children somewhere, with once-gorgeous mothers who had fallen for Chase and were now hideous, fat, monstrous women who were put off men forever. But that's not really important.

"Of course sir. This might take a while though."

"Like I said, I'm in no particular hurry."

I must have been looking on that shelf with him for a good half-an-hour. I swear, that experience put me off small bookstores forever. I was busy cursing the day Mr. What's-his-name was born at about the time I found the book. "Aha! Here it is!" I said triumphantly, slipping said book out of the shelf and whirling around to give it to Chase. I jumped nearly 50 feet in the air when I saw that Chase had been standing right behind me. And by right behind me, I don't mean within 10 feet of me. No, I mean within 10 inches of me. Maybe not even 10 inches; I can't really remember.

Things start to get hazy around this point. I could have sworn that Chase was looking at me funny, with this kind of… not lust, not love, just like, in his eyes. When I reached Earth once again, Chase placed a hand on my left shoulder. Or maybe it was my right shoulder. Or maybe it didn't happen at all. And then he smiled at me, that winning, million-watt smile that caused him to have all of those imaginary illegitimate children. And then he kissed me.

Yes my friend, he kissed me. No, this is not a romance novel as I said before. And it's not just one of those stories that seemingly has to have romance in it or else the author will simply die. It's my story, and this is how my story goes.

I was so completely and utterly stunned that I didn't even respond until about halfway through the kiss. And let me tell you, Chase certainly could kiss. I had been kissed a few times before but never, never, never like that. It was exactly what all of the romance novels described kisses to be like, and for just a moment I thought… but the moment passed.

And then, as in all good romantic situations, a sound broke us apart. This time it was the sound of the bell on the door, ringing as somebody came inside. Chase pulled away, smiled that amazing smile once more, took the book in my hand, and walked over to the counter. After a moment I walked out behind him.

"Hello, may I help you?" I asked the man who had just walked into the store. He shook his head and disappeared down one of the aisles. So I rang Chase up.

Go on to the next part:

Chapter 5: Background Music  (13+) In which part Stella gets a visitor #959517 by Fantasy