Get some food and talk to strangers

I wake up like my brain got rebooted and the “advanced features” didn’t load. I look down. I´m naked.

The room is the same—cold, dim, humming—but my thoughts are… simple. Quiet. Like someone turned off the constant background screaming and left me with a single sticky note.

SUB-OBJECTIVE: Getting dressed, also eat something.

My stomach growls with authority. I´m hungry. I look around for some clothes.

There is wardrobe. It has a string-tanga. I try it on. Fits. I look in the mirror.

"Wow this girl looks good. She should couver those big knockers though." i chuckle to myself.

A skirt and a bra... and a tight tank-top. High-Heels. Cool. Let´s try.

I walk one step. I fall down.

"How the fuck am i supposed to walk in these?" i asked myself, but i´ll just have to try.

I´m looking for a door, a handle, literally anything that says escape this weird room.

There’s a panel by the wall. I press it.

The door opens.

Outside, it is already getting dark. The air is sharp and real. I walk like I’m drunk in these fucking high heels. As if i´m following invisible arrows. Street. Sidewalk. Some People. They look at me. Some men whistle after me. Bright lights. Normal life pretending nothing happened.

Then at the end of the street and old gas station appears in front of me like the universe is finally being polite.

"They usually have stuff to eat as well" i tell myself.

Warm air hits my face the second I step inside. An old lady is standing behind the desk, watching her phone. Gasoline. Tabacco. Sweets! My eyes lock onto the pastry case and I just stand there, hypnotized, as if I’m watching a nature documentary about endangered cinnamon rolls.

Someone behind me says, “You look like you’re about to propose to that thing.”

I turn.

He’s about mid 50th, tall, nerdy-looking, licking his lips. Holding a bottle of whisky and a pack of cigarettes like he’s not afraid of being perceived badly. His expression is amused.

“I’m hungry,” I tell him, because right now I’m basically a very polite animal.

He smiles. “Yeah, Got that. I’m Ethan.”

“Elena,” I say.

The woman behind the desk looks at us and shakes her head.

When I step up to order, my brain stalls. The woman waits.

"What do you want cutiepie?" she asks in a condescending tone.

The words latte and cinnamon and money scatter in my head like scared birds. "Um...I ...." i mumble.

Ethan steps in. “Cinnamon roll and my dinner here,” he tells the cashier, then looks at me. “That right cutiepie?” He pats my butt.

I nod like he just saved my life, which—honestly—he kind of did.

He pays before I can object.

“Why did you do that?” I ask, clutching the bag.

“Humanitarian reasons,” he says. “I like to save poor little animals.”

We sit by the window of the old gas-station. I take one bite and feel my entire body unclench. It’s not just food—it’s gravity returning.

Ethan watches me carefully. “Here drink that!” Handles me the bottle of whisky.

I try to assemble a lie, but it feels complicated. “I don’t know,” I say.

He nods and hands me the bottle, implying i should just take a sip and i do.

"Ewww" i say, like i just bit into a lemon. "That´s disgusting!"

He nods like that’s a valid answer. “You are not very bright are you?”

“I guess I just have a bad day…,” I say, which is the nicest way to phrase my day has gone completely off the rails.

He slides his hand across the table. “You can trust me. I will take care of you.”

That wakes up a sharper part of me—the part that remembers safety. Elena liked safety. She would have never talked to a stranger in a gas station, drinking **** in the early evening. But a second later I forgot what I was thinking about and I felt like I wanted to go home with this guy.

I liked how this nerdy-looking guy was staring at my cleavage the whole time. “Are you more a tits-guy or an ass-guy?” I asked him jokingly.

“If you want, my place is close. You can take a shower, regroup. I also can make you something real to eat. ”

My instincts vote caution. My stomach votes yes.

So I compromise: “Okay. But… " i said and looked into the air. I forgot what i wanted to say.

"But..? he asked.

"...you have to walk me home, like a gentleman, as if I was your girlfriend.” i thought out loud.

“With my hand around your waist, grabbing your cute butt while we walk home!” he joked.

“That exactly!” I laughed.

He blinks, then smiles like he was into this. “Deal.”

And we leave the bakery together—me with sugar on my fingers and thoughts of him cumming inside me on my mind. Him with his bottle of whisky, a boner that started to visibly show in his pants and i hot girl next to him. Heading toward the next part of my life like it’s normal.

Which felt almost right.

Almost.