The girl in the red sweater PT 1

I first saw her outside of Zooks Books. I was across the street at Cafe Lift getting breakfast with Donovan. Usually at that time I would still be sleeping, but i hadn't been able to drift off the night before. So at dawn I had to stop kidding myself and give up that i would sleep at all. Insomnia was becoming routine. At least twice a week I'd lay awake, staring at the uneven paint on my ceiling. I rarely ate breakfast, but I'd been craving Cafe Lifts pancakes for days. Plus Donovan worked nights at a club nearby, and i knew at about 6:00 he would be finishing up, likely famished and looking for decent company. 

We sat and talked as he inhaled his full English breakfast, and I ate my short stack of pancakes. 

  "you drown your pancakes in syrup" Donovan said 

  "doesn't everyone? And butter for that matter" 

I grabbed the little ramekin of butter and added it to my plate.

  "why are you up so early?" he asked 

I stuffed a big bite into my mouth

  "i didn't sleep last night, laid awake tossing and turning."

  "why couldn't you sleep?" he asked

  "i don't know, my minds preoccupied"

  "you're not busy enough. You don't do enough throughout the day so your body isn't tired when you try to sleep" said Donavon

  "no, actually i did a lot yesterday. I had a busy day. My minds preoccupied"

  "on what?" he asked

  "no one thing, lots of little things that nag me back and forth" i said

Right then, a car outside beeped, as a cyclist blocked the car and yelled at the driver. They both drove off, and as the commotion cleared my attention was caught Sharply. 

There was a girl at the bookshop across the street in a bright red sweater and blue jeans stacking books outside. She looked like Nicole Kidman from the back with her stature and curly blonde hair up in a bun. 

  "look at her" i said

  "you know her?" asked Donovan

  "no"

  "so what" he said

  "nothing i guess." i said, somewhat disappointed in myself.

We paid up and left. He went his way, clearly ready to drop into a bed. I turned to the bookshop across the street, and hesitated in my footing for a moment. Why did Zook's books suddenly intimidate me. something about that girl and her bright red sweater intrigued me. I wanted to see her face. I rubbed my fingers together and they were sticky from the syrup. I adjusted my jacket, and straightened my posture. I thought, if i say hello to her, id rather be feeling and looking my best. I'm stuffed and utterly sleep deprived. Clearly she works there, at least on Sunday morning, so I'll come back another time and say hello. 

I went home absolutely exhausted. I brewed myself some coffee, I didn't want to fall asleep now. Falling asleep at 9 AM would completely upend my withering sleep schedule, so i thought better of it. My French press was dirty and I didn't have the energy to clean it, so i made my self a cup of instant joe. I buried it in cream and sugar to mask the awful taste. It was bad, but it was hot, and that's half the battle. I splashed my face in the sink, and forced down a cup of water. A buzz came on the intercom, and I decided to ignore it, as it usually was a mistake and not really for me. But it buzzed again, and I hit the door button. I stood with my eye to the peephole. Who could it be? My landlord? Donovan? The girl in the red sweater? You idiot. How could it be her? Still I had the most delusional thought in the back of my head that it was. I stayed in that position for about two minutes. I opened the door and looked down the hall. Nobody was there.