Two
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Jessica and I left the store around seven in the evening, then drove back to our dorm. I used to have an old yellow truck from high school, but my younger sister, Poppy, claimed it once I graduated. So, I'd began saving up for another one. By the end of the month or in two months, I hoped to snag a used car.

I wasn't the wealthiest girl around; heck, I'd been working odd jobs all my life to help my mom, Michelle, support the family. Thankfully, I landed a half-scholarship for college. As for my dad, he remarried, and only God knows where he is now. We've learned to think less about him and bury those memories.

On our way, we made a pit stop at Frosty Spoon, an ice cream parlor just outside campus that surprisingly served nearly everything. Finding a table, we ordered fries, cheeseburgers, sodas, and settled into a moment of silence.

After a minute, Jessica looked up from her phone and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Good Riddance," I spat. I was more angry than heartbroken at this point.

She laughed a little and passed me her phone. "Take a look at this. Didn't you say you wanted a new job?"

Working as a cashier right after college no longer appealed to me. After two years of the same job, I was over it. The website offered a list of part-time and full-time jobs open to Coasuta citizens. Jessica and I, chomping on fries and burgers, sifted through the options, weighing the pros and cons to pinpoint the one that suited me best. Data entry, marketing, cashiering (nope, not again), babysitting, tutoring, receptionist, cleaning drive...

"Tutoring or babysitting," Jessica suggested.

"Right," I agreed, continuing to skim through the list.

Reading aloud the descriptions, time schedules, and grade levels, we went from one to the next until something peculiar caught our eyes.

"Urgent!

Babysitting a four-year-old princess for three hours starting from 3:30 to 6:30 pm. Plus tutoring. Just help her with spelling and some games. Payment can be negotiated but will most probably be $40 each for the first two hours and $30 for the next one hour.

Address - ComeAtMeBaby Street (you know I'm kidding). You'll seriously, seriously find us at 1846 Walnut Lane, 2nd Jefferson St., House No. 5, Landmark - Jefferson's Public Library. Job open for a limited time.

You won't get another opportunity like this. For further details, contact [email protected]

Best regards, PuddinPants"

"What the fuck?" Jessica laughed.

"I don't know what just happened."

"But it sounds perfect to me," Jessica offered thoughtfully. "I mean, with the time schedule and everything, you might not get another one like that. The pay's not bad either. Many college students will probably be pitching for that. When was it posted?"

"Couple hours ago. Should I go for it?"

"Yeah?"

"But it sounds so creepy."

Nonetheless, I fired off an email to MisterPuddinPants, introducing myself as a college student, sharing my name, and expressing my interest in the job. Within minutes, my phone chimed with a reply.

[email protected] : "Are you decent?"

"What?" I raised my eyebrows over the phone, a bit flustered.

Another ding within a second.

[email protected] : "I mean, I would want the best for our Princess. Not someone too swag. Just the right amount of rizz. You know what I mean."

I couldn't help but laugh at the oddity of MisterPuddinPants.

I replied, "Decent enough to not pole dance with your daughter and set the house on fire."

[email protected] : "Excellent.
Is the pay good enough for you?"

"Sure."

"Wonderful. Weekly payout. You're welcome to start right away tomorrow..."

"Perfect. See you tomorrow Mr. PuddinPants??" I emailed back.

[email protected]: "Very well then, Miss Decent. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Jessica and I stared at each other. What have I gotten myself into?

The choice of words and the peculiarly humorous content of Mr. PuddinPants' emails made me pause and second-guess the job for a moment. He was either a genuinely funny guy or a complete weirdo. However, he amused me to the point where the curiosity to meet this guy overwhelmed any reservations. If he turned out to be too weird, I could always ditch the job. Nevertheless, I was more than curious—I was genuinely interested.

We headed back soon after. I collapsed onto my bed, utterly drained. Crowds were never my thing. The department store job always left me half-dead every evening—thanks to the noise, the rush, the late August heat, and the constant conversations with strangers. I could chatter endlessly if I started, but most times, I preferred keeping my mouth zipped and my mind open to fantasies.

Jessica and I headed back soon after. I collapsed onto my bed, utterly drained. Crowds were never my thing. The department store job always left me half-dead every evening—thanks to the noise, the rush, the late August heat, and the constant conversations with strangers. I could chatter endlessly if I started, but most times, I preferred keeping my mouth zipped and my mind open to fantasies.

After a shower, we settled into our usual routine—me reading, Jessica browsing and eating, and then sleeping. The following morning unfolded as normally as ever, followed by an even more routine college day... until the time finally arrived for me to embark on an adventure at 1846 Walnut Lane.

I caught the bus near campus, and it took me all the way to the bypass at 2nd Jefferson Street, stopping right next to the public library. From there, I walked to 1846 Walnut Lane, following the street signs.

The neighborhood struck me as incredibly peaceful and cozy, neatly uniform and adorable. Every house seemed almost identical, featuring pretty green yards and small porches. As far as my eyes could trace on both sides of the road, all the houses were two-storied, painted dark gray with white borders. The porches, without exception, were white and adorable.

Bradford Pears - not walnuts - lined the streets, casting shadows on the blacktop and forming a vivid picture of the color scheme in yellow-orange, almost like a herald announcing the approaching fall. I strolled past a few children on skateboards and bikes, a pleased smile on my lips, feeling as though I were walking through heaven with a halo over my head, until it suddenly dawned on me that I had passed House No. 5.

Crap.

I retraced my steps, walked back two houses, stepped up onto the porch, and rang the doorbell. Glancing at the time on my phone, I realized I was already fifteen minutes late.

Way to go on your first day of work, Sophia.

Moments later, the door pulled open, and I found myself face to face with a familiar pair of steely green eyes. Boy, did it leave me utterly gobsmacked.

I couldn't believe my eyes. Seeing him again left me utterly astonished at first, but a second later, my lips were twitching in amusement. Barely containing my laughter, it dawned on me that this stranger with such a tough exterior could possibly be MisterPuddinPants. It felt downright hilarious.

Six feet, scary eyes, freaking hot body, and his name was PuddinPants. No way!!

"MisterPuddinPants?" I giggled out right on his face.

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I'm personally in love with Gregory Alan Isakov's "The Empty Northern Hemisphere"

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Love, Hermyne