Rising Tide • •

[odysseus rafferty scott]

Odysseus had surprised his sister and parents when he confessed to enjoying the delivery run. They thought he’d bail on it after a week, retreat back into the office of the café and force them to hire someone just for deliveries. They could have afforded it, since the business was steadily successful, but the problem came in finding someone reliable who could tolerate New York traffic and wouldn’t have an issue working just a few hours each day. Thankfully, Odd liked stepping out of his office. He had all the apps that were on his PC there on his phone too, so if traffic did come to a complete standstill, he could crunch numbers while he was waiting. It helped him tune out the horns of impatient drivers, or the sidewalk arguments. He typically also had an audiobook playing – non-fiction suited him best when he was driving as he rarely got lost in a daydream when he was listening to facts and theories.

The food was always kept in chilled containers, just so he didn’t have to sit blasting the cold AC in a New York winter. Of course, the deliveries were less in the cold since people wanted hot, filling meals. Everyone wanted to look good in the heat, so salads and rice bowls were in high demand then. Odysseus wouldn’t consider himself friends with the people he regularly delivered to, but he knew their faces well enough to be comfortable around them. Some places had an assigned member of staff to grab the delivery and distribute it, other times he would have a crowd around him waiting for their name to be called, or in some places, the management were happy to let him roam around the cubicles and offices delivering it all himself. To those people he obviously didn’t seem any kind of threat.

He particularly enjoyed delivering to The Creative Collective. Considering it was a space where dark traumas were often processed, the people who worked there kept it welcoming. There was no stiff formality in the reception, nothing that triggered memories of hospitals. A lot of the staff there were understandably vague about their work, but he could still see how they helped. Elara’s art studio was a Kaleidescope of ever-changing colours, which amused him since she was always dressed in black. Of course, his favourite office to call by was Reggie’s. There was something about her that made his heart race and caused him to stumble over his words more than usual. He couldn’t say he had ever had a conversation with her because his nerves would never let him. That didn’t change how his hands got clammy when he was walking down the hallway to her part of the old building. Despite never exchanging more than pleasantries with her, he would leave disappointed any time she was occupied and he couldn’t personally hand her the lunch she ordered. He would leave it with a nearby colleague and walk out of there crestfallen.

It was ridiculous, he told himself regularly, since she probably had this full life already and he was left grinning like it was all some boyhood crush. Hers was the second to last delivery in his bag. The door was slightly ajar today, but he still knocked and waited, picking her lunch out of the bag while he waited for permission to come in. Odd might be missing a lot of things, but his manners weren’t one of them.

• • •

TAGGED! Peregrine Christina Mellencamp
WORDS! 578!
LYRICS! Numb Without You - - - The Maine
NOTES!