Weavers - pt. 1
He looked so familiar, she stopped right there on the sidewalk, lost to anything else. The girl was walking purposefully, close to the city plaza, when the sight of him made her catch her breath. He was rather ordinary: somewhat tall, with unruly dark hair and a black leather jacket. He had a deep sadness that radiated to the girl across the square.
As if sensing her gaze, the boy turned in her direction and saw her. Their eyes met. In the brief second, she saw recognition, perhaps even astonishment. The girl quickly averted her eyes out of embarrassment, but couldn’t help but steal another glance. He had gotten up and was quickly moving. Towards her. Alarmed, she began to quickly walk away from the park, hoping to blend back into the crowd. She was good at that.
After putting as many blocks between her and the plaza, the girl caught her breath in a cafe on the corner. She settled into her spot, frost on the window, heater rattling softly, cold drink in hand. There was a seat for another, but no one ever joined her. She could do that too.
Three pages in, a shape caught the edge of her vision. Over the edge of her dog eared book, she saw him, the boy, looking right at her. Unable to move, she watched him walk towards her, and sit down opposite her. He edged the chair towards her, looks once around him, and said, “Do you know me?”
The quickness and absurdity of the entire occurrence floored the girl. She took him in up close. He had small freckles on his face, a strong jaw but soft eyes. He was thin, but he carried himself like he was a soldier. His clothing was old and beat. His left foot never stopped moving. The familiarity returned yet again, washing over her. What did they call this…déjà vu. She had to have seen him once before, or was it to be? Her hesitation in answering the boy made his foot tap more quickly, agitated.
“No, no, no no no”, his voice rising with each word. He seemed on edge, anticipating trouble, furtively glancing around the room. “What did I do when I saw her?,” he muttered, eyes checking every item on the table in front of them. He grabbed a old magazine laying nearby, and put it under the table. Then, he turned a coaster upside down and unplugged the lamp nearby.
The girl, still lost in finding at his familiar face, was torn out of her daze by the strange actions. “Who the hell are you supposed to be?” she spat with mustered conviction. The boy, observant as he was sad, noticed the change in tone and actually sighed in relief. He leaned back in his chair and told her, “Well that depends on who you think you are, sunshine.”
something a little different. this is part of a short story I’m writing.
please please please give me feedback. whether pointers on my writing chops, if want more writing on the site, etc. it would be much appreciated, and will result in making the blog better