C3 Scarred Reflections

I sighed, leaving the radio on some generic rock station, the old tunes doing little to improve my mood.

Nothing new, nothing interesting. Just the same cycle of bad news, corporate propaganda, and meaningless distractions.

The towering skyscrapers cast long shadows over the streets as I pulled into the supermarket parking lot, the structure an old but reliable building wedged between newer, shinier competitors. The neon sign flickered slightly, the automatic doors hissing open and closed as a steady stream of shoppers wandered in and out.

I parked the car, killed the engine, and stepped out, inhaling the mix of city smog, cheap food, and distant gasoline fumes.

Just another errand. Just another damn day of my worthless existence. The automatic doors slid open with a tired whine as I stepped into the supermarket, grabbing a shopping cart out of habit.

The wheels squeaked slightly as I pushed it forward, the metal frame wobbling just enough to be annoying.

I started walking, moving down the aisles, passing stacks of pre packaged meals, rows of synthetic meat, overpriced snacks, and an endless selection of alcohol and energy drinks.

Then it hit me. I had no f*cking clue what I wanted to buy. I stopped in the middle of an aisle, staring blankly at a display of instant noodles.

Buying groceries was always a g*dsdamn chore for me. I never planned my meals, never made a list, never thought about what I actually needed until I was standing there, staring at shelves stocked with things I didn't give a s*it about.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, exhaling slowly.

"Right… let's figure this out,"

I muttered to myself, gripping the cart handle. But deep down, I already knew. This trip was going to be just as pointless as all the others.

After wracking my brain and staring at the endless shelves like a clueless idiot, I finally ended up with the bare essentials sausage, ham, bread, and a box of beer.

Basic. Efficient. Enough to keep me from starving for another couple of days without having to think too hard about it.

I pushed the cart toward the self checkout station, the sleek machine's screen flashing its usual "SCAN ITEMS" prompt.

One by one, I ran my groceries across the scanner, the robotic beep confirming each entry.

Sausage. Beep.

Ham. Beep.

Bread. Beep.

Beer. Beep.

I hit PAY, grabbed my phone, and pressed it against the scanner, waiting for the confirmation. Instead, the machine let out a loud, obnoxious error sound.

"INSUFFICIENT FUNDS."

I clicked my tongue in irritation, jaw tightening as I glared at the screen.

"F*ck what now?"

I muttered under my breath already having an Inkling of what the problem was. I opened my banking app, scrolling through the transactions.

My main account was bone dry, not that I was surprised. The past few weeks had been nothing but expenses, with no new money coming in.

My books werent selling, my contract offers were nonexistent, and my retirement savings were draining faster than I'd expected.

I exhaled sharply and transferred the needed amount from my black day savings account, the emergency stash I swore I wouldn't touch unless things got really bad.

And here I was. With a final tap, the payment went through. The machine gave a cheerful "THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASE" message, which only pissed me off more.

I irritatedly stuffed the groceries into the elastic bag, shoving the beer in first, followed by the rest. The bag stretched, barely managing to hold everything, but I didn't care.

Without another glance around, I beelined straight for the exit, stepping back into the dull afternoon light.

The city buzzed around me, people moving, drones humming, advertisements flashing, but I barely noticed any of it.

I was already focused on one thing, getting back to my g*ddamn car and getting the hell out of here.

The moment I reached my car I opened the back door and threw my groceries into the back of my car, the elastic bag sagging under the weight of beer and processed meat, and slammed the door shut.

The metal groaned slightly under the impact, this rust bucket was barely holding itself together. With a grunt, I slid into the driver's seat, letting out a slow breath.

Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping the bottom until one slid out between my fingers.

It felt natural, like muscle memory, just another bad habit I never bothered shaking.

I placed it between my lips, flicked open my Zippo lighter, and watched the tiny flame flicker to life before bringing it to the tip.

The familiar burn hit my lungs as I inhaled, the smoke curling through my open window, twisting into the dull afternoon air.

Then, something caught my eye. A luxurious bloodred sports car the kind of machine that screamed money, pulled into the lot and parked crookedly on two entire parking spots right in front of me.

The doors lifted up in that over the top way only rich assholes seemed to love. And then, she stepped out.

I forgot to inhale.

"What the f...?"

She was 160 centimeters tall, exactly my height preference, not counting the extra boost from her high heels. Tanned skin. Tight leather jeans.

A leather jacket hugging her figure. A mix of black, red, and white hair tied Into a ponytail that swung slightly as she moved.

Even standing still, she radiated an effortless kind of confidence, the type only people born into luxury or hardened by experience seemed to carry.

She was chewing gum, idly popping it as she slid off her black sunglasses, revealing piercing purple eyes. Her nails, manicured in different colors glinted slightly under the days sun.

She wasn't just attractive, she was the kind of woman that made men rethink their entire existence. For a moment, I just stared.

G*ds. Damn. That's definitely an 11 out of 10. I dont think I saw a more attractive women In my entire life.

I exhaled slowly, finally remembering to pull the cigarette from my lips. The ember at the tip burned idly, forgotten.

For a fleeting second, a crazy thought crossed my mind, walking up, saying something smooth, seeing if I still had it.

But then, just as quickly, I shook my head. No chance in hell. I wasn't who I used to be. Sure, back in my prime, I had been a rather successful kazanova, even though It took years and ridiculous ammounts of alchohol to get me started before I got to that point.

After years of trial and experience I knew how to talk, how to charm, how to walk into a room and own it. But that was years ago, before the military chewed me up and spat me out, before I let myself go.

Now? My beard was wild, unkempt, oiled and if you looked closely you could find crumbles of food In It, a clear sign I hadn't given a damn in weeks.

My beer belly pressed against my shirt and belt, a mocking reminder of how far I'd fallen. I hadn't showered properly in days, the faint scent of stale beer and cigarettes mixed with sweat clinging to my jacket.

And the worst part? My once proud lance that left most women I had s*xual encounters with wanting more enough though I was kinda lacking In the stamina department which only got worse with each year but learned to compensate with auxilary means was limp.

That alone killed any hope before it could even form. What was I gonna do? Stumble up to her, reeking of regret and cheap beer, and somehow sweep her off her feet? And even If I did? Whats the f*cking point then I cant even get It up anymore?

And besides, she was obviously f*cking rich. I was a g*ddamn pauper, struggling to buy f*cking groceries.

I exhaled, dragging my hand down my weathered face that looked way older than my actual age before taking another slow pull of my cigarette.

Whoever she was, she was way out of my league. And it wasn't just about money or looks, it was the way she moved.

The way she didn't glance around nervously like most people in a public lot. She carried herself like someone who never had to worry about danger, or worse… someone who was the danger.

I should've ignored her. I should've driven off. But then, she turned. And those striking purple eyes locked onto mine.

...

FL POV

She blinked, her expression momentarily frozen as she took in the disaster of a man sitting in the beat up scrap heap of a car.

"You've got to be f*cking kidding me…"

The words slipped out under her breath, barely audible over the distant hum of the city. He looked like he had crawled straight out of a dumpster, unshaven, disheveled, clothes hanging off him in a way that suggested he hadn't cared about his appearance in years.

A beer belly bulged against his tight shirt, his dyed white hair with a string of black tied back messily, and the faintest scent of cigarette smoke and cheap booze clung to him.

A complete mess. And yet. Her pupils light up with a wana be s*th yellow, a soft glow radiating outward as an invisible HUD activated in her vision.