All The Time in the World

10 minutes

The man in the black hoodie stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He'd exhale into his cupped hands but he writes that off as being less than masculine. Not that it matters. No one is paying attention to him. He kicks a tin can across the sidewalk periodically. He has been kicking it for 7 blocks now.

The young woman is putting on her face for the day. She's highlighting her cheekbones, coloring in her dark circles and lining her lips. Outside her one bedroom, ground floor apartment unit, the world is waking up.

The toddler in the car is smiling wildly at her mother as she points to the world outside. It is sunny — just the way she likes it. The sun's rays piercing through the tinted windows take kindly to her frizzy, red hair.

The construction worker is a quarter way through his shift for the day. His muscles burn with every weight he lifts and yet with every weight he sets down, a little of the weight on his shoulders falls off.  Because he is making an earning, he is going to put his son through to college even if his muscles rupture.

5 minutes 

The man in the black hoodie realizes there's some gravel stuck on the back of his shirt and the bottom of his jeans. He brushes it off carelessly, still kicking the can. The clanging noise it makes on the pavement shakes him out of his abstraction every time he reenters it. He doesn't want to think about the night before. About the reason for his black eye. 

The young woman exits the apartment, a half eaten cereal bar in her hand. She puts earphones on and selects her current favorite album, Coldplay's A Head Full of Dreams. She puts in on shuffle and it skips right to her favorite, Everglow. After finishing the bar, she hops onto her bicycle, heading to work. She is an affordable tutor for elementary school kids.

The toddler asks her mother to change the radio station. She wants happy songs, the kind that summer would waltz to if it were a person. 

The construction worker claps a co-worker on his back. It's going to be a great day.

The last minute

The man in the black hoodie walks in a straight line. Funny how he walks straight but everything else about him isn't. Funny how drunk people who can't see straight are the ones who decide the penance for being deviant. He kicks the can with a ludicrous amount of force, it sails into the street.

The young woman hears construction happening a block away. She turns the volume of her music up. As she is doing that, something shiny flies into the street, right into her path. She loses control of the bicycle. The tires hook onto the aluminum and she is thrown onto the asphalt. 

The toddler covers her mother's eyes, thinking she can convince her mom to play peekaboo with her. The ride becomes bumpy. Her mother reflexively wrenches her little hands away. She sees a girl with an overturned bicycle lying in the middle of the street. The toddler begins to cry as her mother slams on the brake, instinctively turning the wheel to avoid the obstacle.

The construction worker hears tires squealing against gravel. He is on the top floor. He takes off his hardhat and squints into the distance, trying to discern the reason for the noise. Then a car turns abruptly onto the compound, out of control. Men in hardhats have dived out of the way. The car swerves and hits the unsteady foundation of the building. A shudder runs through the entire structure and the construction worker loses his footing. His closest co-worker grabs his wrist then buckles and slides under his weight. The hold lasts an eternity, both pairs of irises colored with desperation. 

An hour later

The man takes off his hoodie and places it around the shaking woman. He crosses his arms around his chest. 

The young woman thanks the kind gentleman for walking her home. She received a call from the child she was supposed to tutor today. The 8 year old's father has died in a tragic accident. He cannot think about school now. She can barely think about anything herself. Three deaths before noon. She feels like she has aged a century. 

Scarlet

“Are you bringing this?” Caleb asked. I turned to see what he was holding up. It was a black and white striped dress cut just above the knees. I had worn that on our first date together. 

“Yeah, I think I will,” I said, glancing at my suitcase. I frowned. “We’re going to have to do some stuffing. Then I’ll probably have to sit on it all night so the zips won’t break,” I joked. 

He rolled his eyes and tossed the dress at me. It landed on my face and slipped into my lap. 

“Hey!” I complained. “You’re going to crease it.”

“Crease it? Really, Mia?” he looked at me, expression exasperated. But I knew him well enough to see the hint of humor and gentleness in his irises when he used that tone with me. “Have you seen your suitcase?”

“What are you talking about?” I wondered, eyeing the neatly folded piles of clothes. 

“You are a terrible traveller. You really can’t pack,” he said. He came over to me and ruffled my hair. 

I made a face. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with how I’m packing?” I wondered. 

“It’s all about maximizing your space.” Caleb sat cross legged beside me and started taking out my clothes. I bit my lip, wondering what he was doing. He took the first shirt off the pile and shook it out. He laid the shirt out on the floor. Then he folded it in half and began rolling the fabric. He handed me the rolled up shirt. 

“What?” 

“Pack them like this. The creases won’t be so deep and you’ll save space for the rest of your stuff. I can only take you as far as the airport. You’ll have to transport all your bags around by yourself especially once you arrive. You’re not going to want to carry like 18 bags, are you?” he looked at me condescendingly. 

“Okay. Sheesh, lighten up,” I griped. “You’re starting to sound like my dad.”

He snorted then started doing the same with the rest of the shirts. I copied his movements, savoring the silence between us. It would soon be gone. I would soon be gone. It was weird. We had done a lot of things, Caleb and me. We had gone through a lot together. We had laughed and cried, fought and made up again. We’d been to concerts and cinemas and museums - all the typical date stuff. We’d been neighbors since I moved here. We grew up together and grew together. 

But here I was thinking the thing I would miss about us the most was this. Our silences. Our long, quiet moments of being together, doing some mindless task. These moments were always simple and easy even though our relationship wasn’t always like that. Our relationship was like the bright colors. Brilliant, passionate, full of potential energy at any given moment. 

“You didn’t have to come over to do this, you know?” I told him. 

“Yeah. I know,” he replied and shrugged. “It’s cool. I had nothing else to do anyway.”

“So… you know, we haven’t really talked much,” I hinted.

“We’re talking now,” he said. But the molten quality of his eyes disappeared. He knew what I was getting at and his eyes were shrewd now. Shrewd and unwilling. 

“We haven’t talked much about us. About once I leave,” I said quietly.

“Is that it?” he asked, gesturing to my suitcase. We had rolled up all the other articles of my clothing and the bag was almost too full for anything else. 

“Yeah, I think that’s it.” I zipped up the bag and focused on packing my one carry-on. “So about us…” 

He stood up and picked up the suitcase we had finished stuffing. “I’m going to put this in your car trunk first.”

I nodded and sighed, letting him go. This too I was familiar with. He hated talking about unpleasant things. Pretend the problems don’t exist. That always works, right? Wrong. But he’d never learn. I waited for him to come back. As I predicted, he lingered longer than necessary outside the room. I heard a fridge door slam shut and a cupboard door open. Then I heard running water and the sound of plates colliding with each other. He was doing the dishes. That was fine. I would finish my packing then bring the topic up again. I wasn’t going to let it go. I had all night and he probably knew it too. 

He was fighting a losing battle. 

I zipped up the carry-on and fastened a tiny padlock through the two zippers. I took a deep breath and headed to the kitchen. He was drying now, wiping down the plates and cutleries with a dish towel. I stood across, leaning on the counter. His back was to me. 

“We need to talk, Caleb,” I said. “We still haven’t decided.”

“So decide,” he said, turning around to face me. 

“It shouldn’t be my decision. It has to be ours.”

“Look, Mia. You know yourself. The chances of you finding this again is really small. So don’t worry.” His tone was cutting and arrogant. 

“So you think we should be together?”

“I didn’t say that. I just mean, I don’t think there will be that many options. I’m close to home, emotionally and physically. You’re not going to give us up.”

“You sound sure,” I said, keeping my tone even. I hadn’t heard one word about what was best for us or about what he felt or he wanted. It was just cold hearted analyzing and it made me angry. 

His eyes tightened. “Fine then. Leave and forget everyone in this town.”

Blood rushed up to my face and the anger flared in my eyes when I spoke my next words. “Why does it always have to be like that with you? You’re so damn overbearing and cocky. And you act like this doesn’t matter to you at all. Like I don’t matter to you at all!” 

Caleb turned back to the dishes. 

A minute of silence passed before I asked in a small voice, “Aren’t you even a little afraid of losing me?”

He didn’t answer. I scoffed in disbelief, tears filling my eyes and falling down my cheeks. 

“So it’s like that,” I said. I half ran to through the living room and meant to hastily unlock the front door. I was going to slip out and go missing and not talk to him for the rest of my time in this stupid town. But my fingers were uncooperative and I couldn’t even get the door open before I heard Caleb behind me. 

He stepped in front of me, cutting my path. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice raised much louder than I was used to. His gaze was unbelievably penetrating and I found my eyes gravitated toward the floor. I heard him take a deep breath then let it out in a huge sigh. “You don’t understand,” he said gentler this time. 

“You act like - ”

“I have to!” he said then groaned softly. I was so surprised at the change in his tone that I looked up at his face. He was looking down at me with his head ducked so he was my height. “I have no choice but to be like that. I can’t even imagine being without you now. And if I even think of the possibility of you finding some other guy that’s less of an asshole, I swear I’ll go insane.” 

“Caleb…” I started. 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m… sorry if it never came off that way.” I felt his lips on my forehead. 

“Asshole,” I grumbled, joking. 

“That’s me,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around me. 

“I love you, asshole,” I replied with his heartbeat in my ears. 

Him (Part 2)

He was working again today. The boy with the auburn hair. The boy with the blue eyes and shy grin. The guy who I spoke with only several times. The boy with the simple clothes under the mandatory apron. I wished I knew his shifts for sure. But it was fine. He’d probably just assume that I was a regular customer, that I lived around this area. In truth, I lived quite far away but after that one fateful night, curiosity got the better of me and I’d been here more times than anyone would consider acceptable. I knew he recognized me because he smiled when our eyes met. Before I could be overcome with elation, I reminded myself that I probably wasn’t the only girl he smiled at before. He probably recognized a lot of the regulars. A lot of them were probably more interesting than I was.

I remember coming here the second or third time with my best guy friend. We came here to do homework. I told Isaac to find us a seat, preferably a booth while I would get our coffees. I paced to the end of the line and pulled out my phone, glancing at the messages I was too lazy to answer. The businessman in front of me was taking the time of his life. He read through the menu for minutes. The guy behind the counter, the boy I knew, waited patiently. He even suggested several popular choices. The businessman ended up just going for a black coffee. I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. Finally it was my turn.

“Hi. One Espresso Frappe for my friend over there and for me, a caramel latte,” I told the boy.

“Any toppings?” he asked, preoccupied with the register. When he looked up he smiled again. “Thanks for visiting again, by the way.”

“I like this place,” I assured him. “Anyway, toppings… just whipped cream and -“

“A drizzle of chocolate syrup?” he finished.

“Good memory,” I said, looking down, biting my lip to hide a smile.

He cleared his throat. “Kind of my job,” he said.

“Can you remember my name?”

He wrote it on the coffee cup and turned it to face me. “Am I right?”

I smiled. “Do I get to know yours?”

He told me and I committed it to memory. “Nice bracelet, by the way,” he said, glancing at the charm bracelet on my wrist.

“Thanks. It was a gift.”

“So… anyway, your drinks will be ready in a moment. I can serve them to you as well. If you want.”

“It’s okay, I’ll wait.”

I lingered by the counter while the staff prepared the coffee. After they were ready, I flashed him a smile and walked reluctantly back to the table my friend had picked.

We’re not a story, the boy and I. We are a moment. And we happen again and again.

We are both forgettable and eternal. Perhaps this is the most untainted form of Happily Ever After.

Her (Part 1)

She came again today. The girl with the brown shoulder-length hair. The girl with the green eyes and killer smile. The girl who I spoke with only a handful of times. She often came to this coffee shop. She always wore a silver charm bracelet on her left wrist. She hardly ever wore her hair in any other fashion apart from a ponytail. She tore through books like a hurricanes tore through villages. I wished I knew what she was thinking every time she bit her lower lip and looked off to the side. Was she self-conscious? Was she annoyed? Did she wish she was somewhere else? Was she thinking about her past? I didn’t know nor could I find out. Not easily anyway.

I first spoke to her when she came that first day to order coffee. Caramel latte with just a drizzle of chocolate syrup over a small mountain of whipped cream. I would never forget. The little things about her were branded in my memory. She and I had spoken about the most innocent topic - weather. That day, the rain was coming down hard on the town. Her car was a few streets over and getting there had appeared to be no easy task. She had no umbrella and wore nothing but the clothes on her back which seemed to be damp at best.

“Stay until the rain stops,” I told her.

“When do you think that will be?” she wondered absent-mindedly as she stared out the window.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “But today, I’m in charge of closing. Stay as long as you’d like.”

“I’d really hate to put you out,” she said, shaking her head.

“Really. I’m going to be tidying up this area anyway. Take a load off. Read a magazine. The rain’ll stop soon.”

She smiled, took her latte and sat down on one of the lounge chairs. I used a checkered cloth to wipe down the counter that was slightly sticky - evidence of the coffees I had to prepare for the day. She looked up at me periodically as if part of her mind was keeping track of my work. I put the cloth away and took off my apron.

A glance toward the window told me that the cats and dogs reference could apply. “So… What brings you out here?” I asked her. “It’s almost 11.”

“Oh nothing much. I just prefer spending time outside.”

“Cool,” I replied lamely. We didn’t talk much that night. I didn’t want to bug her. But the air inside was charged with a similar electricity that caused the lightning flashes outside.

She came in a few times after that. But always with company. A girl friend or two. Once even a guy friend. If I caught her eye, I’d smile. And she’d smile back. That was it. That was us.

A love story that would never reach a happy ending because the Once Upon a Time hadn’t even been said yet.

Popcorn

We all stood there, watching her back as she walked away from us. She wore a black coat, her blond hair was draped down her back. And she was carrying a brown suitcase, walking toward the plane, walking away from me.

"I'm really going to miss her," Jenna said as she hugged her boyfriend, Nick.

"I know. We all are," Nick replied. He clapped me on the shoulder. "Let's go home, buddy." Nick and Jen turned around, walking in the opposite direction of Megan. I couldn't move. I just stood there and listened to the voice on the intercom, calling for the passengers of the flight she was going to be on. I turned and saw Nick kiss Jen on her forehead. I knew then that they're feelings for each other were much stronger than any reality. I wasn't sure what that meant exactly... until this moment. When I saw her walking away from me.

She had just turned the corner when I regained control of my limbs. "Catch you guys later," I muttered. Then I ran. I flat out ran after Megan. As my legs carried me, I thought about everything we had ever been through. All the times we ate popcorn while watching movies, walked on the beach and talked about what might be, the time I taught her how to surf and how many times she failed to pick up on my lessons. I thought of the time my mother passed away and I cried tears I didn't even know I had within me. And how she was there, making it better by letting me feel that I wasn't alone. It wasn't worth giving up. We only meet several people that rock us to our cores.

"Megan!" I called as loudly as I could. A few people turned to look at me but I ignored them. She turned around, surprised. "Megan. Don't go, please," I said, half breathless.

"Sam, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Do you remember the first time we went out together? That first date where we said we'd see that new blockbuster movie that was showing in the movie theater?"

"Sure. The concession stand had run out of popcorn," she said, smiling nostalgically.

"Yeah and the movie turned out to be terrible. And then we went for a walk down the street but then it started to rain. You had reminded me to bring the umbrella before we went out but I forgot."

"I was wearing that new cashmere sweater my dad sent me from God knows where. And I was so mad that it got so ruined."

"Right. It was the worst of first dates. Like in the entire history of the world. Am I right?"

"I don't see your point. Are you proving that we just don't work out? Because you don't have anything to worry about. I'll be in LA and you'll be in New York and even the time zones are different. We don't have to be together."

"You're not getting it," I said, bowing my head to catch my breath for a second. When I raised my head, I noticed a tear trail on her face. She was crying.

"What are you doing, Sam?" she repeated, this time, her voice was sad. I could see in her blue eyes that she remembered everything, that our memories were playing in her mind again and again as well. Like a song on repeat.

"What happened at the end of the date? I walked you up to your door and-"

"I asked you to come in."

"I did. Then we sat by the fireplace, eating gelato. And do you remember what you said?"

She thought for a moment as another tear fell. "I said, 'As long as there's us and gelato and a fireplace, everything else doesn't matter'."

I took a step closer to her and put my hand on her cheek. "Maybe this is just another minor setback. Maybe this is just the concession stand running out of popcorn. And tonight it won't matter anymore. Stay. Please. I know that you're afraid here and that you don't have much family here. But you have me and I don't want to spend the rest of my life looking back at this moment and regretting not finding out what we might've had."

"Sam...," she said, indecision in her eyes.

"I'm in love with you," I whispered, leaning in to kiss her.

A Futureless Present

I stared at myself in the long mirror mounted on the wall as I brushed my hair. Cringing, I examined my outlook. It didn't look very good. My eyes showed traces of a sleepless night. Despite my better judgement, I found myself trying to ignore the sensible side of myself. I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't even leave the house. I shouldn't be chasing down something that had no hope of lasting. I shouldn't be trying to undermine fate.

But I was already out the door before my rational side had finished spewing that crap load of advice.

My summer dress showed effects of the wind's passage. It was a bright, optimistic day and I was carrying nothing but my phone and my favorite book. 1984 by George Orwell. Yeah it isn't a common favorite among seventeen year old girls. It explored darker themes and unthinkable realities. I didn't rightly know why I liked it so much. Perhaps it was because it kept me grounded and grateful. I liked to think it kept me realistic. 

Dreamers have no place in today's world. 

And when that realization hit, my eyes prickled with fresh tears. Of course. I knew what I was doing today and it wasn't to mindlessly fall prey to the intoxication of undying love. I reached the sand. Another gust of wind swept through the vicinity and with it I smelled the brine of the ocean. I kicked off my flip flops and ventured to the seaside, letting the cool waves touch me. I flipped through the book as I waited for Derek. 

I felt his strong arms around me a few minutes later. He hugged me from behind, pressing his lips to my collarbone. "Hi," he murmured. At the mere sound of his voice, I wanted to forget my worries and just give in to felicity now. 

"Hey," I said, my voice sounding strained. I turned around, preparing to give him the ultimatum I was mentally preparing but his closeness once again melted my defenses. Suddenly his lips were on mine, moving gently but purposefully. I tasted the hunger we both had trouble suppressing and I thought to myself, "No. This has to be right. What could be wrong about this?"

Eventually, I pulled away. Derek pressed his forehead to mine, closing  his eyes. "You have no idea how much I've been missing you," he whispered. 

"We can't do this, Derek," I finally said. 

He opened his eyes and stroked my cheek once. "What do you mean?"

"I mean we can't. Not anymore. We have to end it. Now."

"What're you talking about?" He was serious now but his eyes held an ounce of hurt.

"You know what I'm talking about. You're leaving. You're moving across the country in a  few weeks. And I'm staying here. There's no way we can keep doing this. And your parents practically hate me. Come on..."

He sighed and took my hand. We started walking along the beach, prolonging the inevitable.  "We can. I don't know how but we'll do it."

I shook my head. "I won't hold you back."

"But..."

"But what, Derek? What can you tell me that would make more sense than what I'm saying now?"

"But I love you." And he said it so innocently and simply that it just about broke my heart. I stopped  walking  and he did  too. The waves lapped at our feet again and again, smoothing out the sand we stood on, leaving seashells  behind. 

"Going on doesn't make any sense," I said somberly. 

He leaned in, kissing me again but ever so softly. "Last I checked, love doesn't make sense." 

It was all nonsense, as they both knew it. In reality there was no escape. Even the one plan that was practicable, suicide, they had no intention of carrying out. To hang on from day to day and from week to week, spinning out a present that had no future seemed an unconquerable instinct, just as one's lungs will always draw the next breath so long as there is air available. 

- George Orwell, 1984  

White Christmas

I hate hospitals. That's all I can think as I sit on this bitterly uninviting, pale orange chair in the hospital cafeteria. I eat the sandwich though it goes down tasting like tasteless pudding but with a consistency closer to PVC glue. I shake my head and sigh. I should be used to it by now; I have spent most of this year in the hospital. Not for me but for her. Ashley. How long she has been here I have almost forgotten. But she's getting better and that's what matters... At least I hope she is.

I throw the plastic container that held the sandwich and go to the counter to get a bottle of water. Then I am out of the cafeteria, heading to Ashley's ward. I take a sip of the water then replace the cap. As I walk, I toss it from hand to hand. That's something my mom has always chastened me about. That I do actions like that when I get nervous or uncomfortable. Before I know it, I have to reign all the negativity in because I'm right in front of Ashley's ward.

I push open the door and force a smile though that doesn't really seem necessary. I walk in and put a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Get some food," I say. The exchanges between Peter and me were always short. Usually less than 5 syllables. 

"Okay," he says. 

I take his place and smile at Ashley. Her blond hair looks a little shinier today. Maybe that is the fault of my inaccurate perception. I usually tell her about my day but I think today she wants to hear about something else, something a little more interesting perhaps. 

"Do you remember how we met?" I ask. 

She doesn't answer. 

"Okay. I'll tell you then. It was how most teenagers meet in my opinion. At a party. But this wasn't an ordinary crazy teen drinking and daring type of party. This was a simple, innocent Christmas party at a mutual friend's house. Peter's actually. Yeah. I arrived there late. You know how I'm notorious for being late. By then everyone was watching a Christmas show on one of the movie channels and from the looks of things, the gifts were all unwrapped already. I gave Peter his present then went to get a drink. You were there. You were wearing this white dress and you had a Christmas hat on your head. And I swear you looked so adorable, Ash. I stuttered a hello and you were gracious enough to return one. We went back into the living room and that was it. Not a very interesting meeting, I know. But it matters. And the insignificant things we remember tend to be the most significant when enough time has passed." I pause and look outside. "It's snowing. Just how you like Christmas. It's been a year since we met." 

Peter comes back into the room then and I decide to leave. I go outside of the hospital to take a smoke. The  air is cold and soon I'm practically chilled to the bone. There's nothing too merry about this Christmas. 

I''m standing outside a hospital I visit almost everyday. The hospital with the white walls, white floors and white sheets. I'm standing here trying to deny myself the agonizing love I have been harboring for the girl upstairs who has been in a coma for months. 

"Merry Christmas, Ashley," I mutter almost inaudibly. 

Isabelle

Funerals are dreary events that mourning people subject other mourning people to. And the latter party has to go in order to show respect to the recently lifeless man, woman or child. Funerals are filled with the sounds of weeping, of half-hearted courage and unsteady breaths. Funerals are abundant with the scents of flowers and fresh clothes. Funerals consist of black and white people taking slow and steady steps as not to collapse from their own internal agony. Those men in black suits plaster on a stoic expression to temporary conceal their grief so they can console their other halves that are using up packets and packets of tissue. Funerals are saltwater pools. Each memory brought forth regarding the dead person is a small stone that is tossed lightly into the puddle and the ripples are the effects it has on the people. Funerals are unavoidable because everybody dies sometime and you're likely to know and care for a lot of people. I could come up with a million ways to describe this dismal scene, a trillion theories to explain it. And yet I knew for certain that if I opened my mouth, nothing but air would escape from it.

I felt a warm hand on mine. I looked over to see Nicole smiling ruefully. She was smiling the kind of smile that someone might wear to coax a smile out of someone else. There. Another thing funerals had. Fake smiles by real people experiencing real pain. Nicole squeezed my hand in encouragement. I eyed her for a second, forcing myself to take in her intelligent green eyes, blonde wavy hair and little black dress. I saw the pure innocence in those eyes and the sincere concern. Still, I couldn't bear it for long. I pulled my hand back and stuffed it into my pocket because I started to see what she wasn't. She didn't have endless black eyes. She didn't have brown hair.

She wasn't Isabelle.

"I'm so sorry. I know you cared about her," Nicole said quietly. I gave her a nearly imperceptible nod. I didn't bother whether she detected it or not. I felt the blood rushing up to give my face a little bit of color. It felt like it had been pale forever. Yes. I cared about Isabelle.

The minutes dragged and each passing second was harder. I tried to keep my emotions at bay but they were threatening to overflow, to pummel me, to leave me breathless and insignificant as rubble. Was this finally it?

"Spencer Chase?" A voice snapped me out of my abstraction. "Young man? Would you like to say a few words to honor Isabelle? I understand she was close to you." This was true. Everyone knew Isabelle and I were best friends. I rose unsteadily and trudged to the front. I stopped by her coffin and mustered the courage to peer inside. Most people would think that they prefer not to see their loved one still, lifeless and cold because they wouldn't want that to be their last memory of the person. But for me, I had to see her. I had to see her alabaster skin even paler; so pale it looked translucent. I had to see her eyes shut and never opening again. I had to see so I could tell myself that this was real. Because I could never imagine such an image. Having this image in my head kept me holding onto reality. I couldn't help thinking that she looked so kind and beautiful even in death.

"Spencer?" I barely heard it. The collective whispers of the crowd seemed to fade into something farther than the background as well. There was just Isabelle and me. Then there was just me and my agony.

The next thing I knew? I was running fast, pushing my lungs and limbs far beyond what they should be capable of executing. I ran several blocks without pausing to take a breather. I ran until my heart felt like it would burst through my chest and land on the pavement. I loosened the tie around my neck and undid the first button. I kept running as if I could outrun the tragedy. When I stopped I was in an alley. My inhalations were shallow and my vision, blurry. My brain was fogged, my memory numb. A different kind of pain shot through my body, originating from my heart. I pressed my back against the wall and slowly sank to the ground. Here is good, I thought. Nobody would see me break down in here. I felt the tears trickle calmly down my cheeks. There was one thing nobody there knew about Isabelle. She was my girlfriend. She loved me. I loved her.

And then there in that alley there was just my agony. Because it had swallowed every part of me.

Indebted to a Postcard

I was driving around town on a Sunday. The town of Riverton to be exact. I had just moved here a few weeks ago with my uncle. I was really glad that he had picked this place. It was quaint and quirky as most small towns are. This one had an aura of sophistication mixed in with the pure innocence it emitted. I found that fascinating. I drove past a large structure at the edge of town. I immediately recognized it as the aquarium that Riverton was famous for. A few mornings ago when I was at the convenient store near the harbor, I had seen numerous post cards for visitors to take back so they could spread the word of tiny little Riverton. A lot of those post cards had the name and picture of this aquarium. I glanced at my watch and inferred that I had enough time to go in and walk around a little. Besides, I didn't have much else to do besides get home in time to cook dinner for Uncle Brady. 

I initiated a U-turn and drove back the way I came until I found the turn that would lead me into the aquarium parking lot. I found a parking spot quickly because the lot was mostly empty. Slow day, probably. I got out of my old but functional car and walked towards the entrance. I stepped through the double doors and let my eyes roam over the place and adjust to the difference in lighting. Outside, the sun was shining relentlessly but in here, it was as dark as dusk and tinged with blue. I supposed they wanted to mimic the color and feel of being underwater. I liked that. I started walking around, scanning through the little bits of information they provide below each tank and then just watching the fish. I appreciated the vivid colors of the coral put at the bottom of the tanks.

"Hey," a voice sounded behind me, making me jump.

I turned around and saw a dark haired boy in a light blue T-shirt. On the T-shirt was the name of the aquarium and a small picture of a clownfish. "Hi," I said.

"Liking the angelfish?" He asked, gesturing to the tank I had been staring at for a while now.

"Yeah, they're beautiful. You work here?"

"I volunteer," the boy answered.

"Wow! That's cool. You're likely to win best summer job at school," I said, smiling. 

He laughed. "Yeah. I like it here. It's peaceful and more rewarding then printing receipts at a convenient store. I'm Mark by the way."

"Stacy."

"Are you new in town? Or just visiting? I've never seen you around here before."

"I just moved in a couple of weeks ago actually. My uncle wanted to leave the city and get started on the whole 'small town life' thing."

"So, you liking what you see?" He asked, running a hand through his hair.

I was silent for a while.

He flushed. "I mean the town."

I laughed to dissolve the awkwardness. "I know. It's great. The people are really nice," I offered as I involuntarily fingered the side of my sundress. 

"I'm uh... about to feed them. Do you want to come with?" He asked, gesturing to the tank again.

"Is that okay?" I wondered.

"You're not going in; just watching. It's fine." 

"All right," I agreed, smiling. I followed him down couple of hallways and up a flight of stairs. He told me to stay put while he got into the gear. I saw the tops of all the tanks. From here they looked like swimming pools. Mark came back a second later, dressed in black scuba gear. The mask and flippers and everything. He took out the mask and grinned. "Like the outfit?"

"Dashing." I chuckled. I watched as he did his job. I began to notice little things about Mark. For instance, he motions were all very gentle. Not too rushed, not impulsive. He seemed like one of those rare people who actually had it all together and like never lost their temper. I was oddly envious. I was also conscious of his smile. He had a really wonderful smile, the type I would never get tired of looking at. After he finished his duties, he changed back into casual attire.

"So this is how it's done," he said, gesturing to the fish after he finished the feeding. 

"Cool."

"Am I boring you?" He fretted.

"No, no!" I said quickly. "It's really intriguing."

"Hey, you wanna grab lunch?"

I deliberated in silence for a moment.

"Come on, if you say no, I'll just be eating my lousy peanut butter sandwich I brought in a Ziploc bag. But if you say yes, I'll have an excuse to have good food," he said, laughing. 

I laughed along. "I don't know. I might have to get home."

"No...Seriously, come on. Have you been to the restaurant by the harbor? They serve the best fish sticks in the entire country. I do not kid, Stacy. I do not kid."

I looked at his pleading expression a little longer then I nodded. "Okay." 

We drove together in his car to the restaurant. The meal was great and I really had to admit to myself that I enjoyed talking to him. He was an optimistic person who had his own views on the world. His was a refreshing personality. I found myself quickly growing addicted to his laugh, his bad jokes and spoken fun facts about sea creatures.

"Did you know that the correct collective noun for jellyfish is a smack?"

"What? Really? A smack of jellyfish?"

"Yep! Weird right? So tell me something about yourself."

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything."

I'm uh... going to study psychology?"

"Cool! You can read minds, then."

"Why does everyone say that?" I responded. "You know, psychologists don't actually read minds. They study behavior and expressions and body language then they draw plausible conclusions."

"So…basically, in summary, they read minds."

I rolled my eyes and smiled. "You? Are you only filled with fun facts regarding sea creatures?"

"Hah! You wish!" He said as he picked up a fish stick. "I know about land animals too. Kangaroos use their tails for balance so if you hold a kangaroo’s tail, it can't hop."

I blinked. "Really?"

"Also, if a croc has clamped onto you, push your thumb into its eyeball. It'll let you go immediately."

I shook my head slowly. 

"Elephants undergo menopause."

"What?" I choked on the lemonade.

"It's true!" 

"No way."

"Really. I know. I'm like a fun fact dispenser."

"Wow..." I muttered. "What are you going to study? Later I mean."

"Eventually I'll make it to one of those bigger schools to study oceanography. Right now, I'm pretty content here. Also, I'm still saving up. All's good."

"Awesome."

"So, what do you think of this place? Riverton."

I thought about it. "I keep thinking it's like a dream. It's so quiet that it's almost magical."

He nodded thoughtfully. The rest of the afternoon was so harmless and hopeful. Mark was a great person and before we said goodbye, I already knew I wanted to see him again. I remember thinking to myself that it really was dreamlike. And if it was a dream, I'd be fine with not waking up. 

Someone Just Like Me

I always believed that chance and luck dictated most of our lives. The way I saw it, so much of what defines our lives is because of chance and luck. For instance, a talented man was recognized because he was lucky. He was lucky that someone had recognized his talent at an early stage. He was lucky people nurtured him and helped him grow. Well, we aren't all lucky. Some of us get our loved ones ripped away.

“Anna.” My mom's voice snapped me out of my daydreams again. No, not mom, step-mom. “I just want to remind you that we are doing this in your best interest.”
“Got it.” I mumbled in a voice that sounded dead and detached even in my own ears. I sounded empty, lifeless and aimless.

I shrugged off the self-pity and forced myself to toughen up. I knew this was coming. I wasn't surprised when my step-mom came in my room to talk to me about it a few nights ago. She explained how this was necessary due to my behavior. In layman's terms, I was basically asking for it. I didn't seriously think that all my actions would be forgiven and forgotten, but part of me still was confused at how it all led to this.
We arrived at the cold, dark and ominous place before the sunset. Boarding school. Yeah, that's what they called it. I knew that this was not an ordinary school though. It was a cross between a boarding school and a mental institution. Of course, they didn't put it like that. They made it sound all flowery so my guardian would buy into it. This would be my personal hell. I was sure of it before I even got my bags out of the car.
I was showed to my room. I assumed we would all have roommates but I didn't have one. That should be nice. I didn't enjoy having to make small talk, though I had perfected it. I thought about all the other things I had tried to perfect over the years. Seeming normal, pretending to be like everybody else. I wondered if I had really ever pulled this off. Another thing, hiding my pain. That was something I always worked on. The pain that lived inside me was something no one could ever take away. That's how it felt to me. All the therapy and counseling in the world that I was put through didn't make it go away completely. Why is it that my stepmother and Nana had put me here in this sick place? Last month, the first anniversary of my parents' death, I had attempted suicide.

I didn't want to think about it anymore. It was too agonizing to bear. Even with all that time, I still felt so wrong inside. I felt so alone. I felt that no one truly understood me. Time heals all wounds. 'What a joke!' I thought to myself as I exited my room and went to walk around the vast campus. The buildings were grey and dull but I had to admit that aside from those boring buildings, the place was actually quite beautiful. There was beautiful green grass and there were trees and flowers. The sunshine touched the grass and the leaves in the trees making the scene almost bearable for me. I glared up at the summer sky and then bundled up my long waves of hair and quickly tied a messy bun. I found the biggest tree on campus and began to climb. It was something I always did. It had become a habit of mine. I liked tall places. I had never been afraid of heights. My depression and anger pushed me higher. I was really high up in the tree when I finally decided to stop climbing. I sighed heavily and carefully found a safe spot to sit.

“Hey. Get your own tree.” A hostile voice startled me. I looked around me and spotted a boy about my age sitting on the same tree. His voice was hostile but his face was polite. I thought I saw a trace of humor somewhere in his expression.
“I'm sorry. I didn't know your name was engraved on this one.” I said sarcastically.
He chuckled at my response. “Chill. I was kidding. I like to kid once in a while.”
“Oh.” I said not knowing what else to say.
“You're new here aren't you?”
“Just enrolled.” I noted that my voice sounded somber.
“What's your name?”
“Annabelle. Call me Anna.”
“Cool. Annabelle. Pretty name.”
“Thanks. Aren't you going to tell me your name?”
“Matthew. Call me Matt.”
“Cool.” I copied his response just as he had copied mine.
“What are you doing up here?”
“I like it. What are you doing up here?”
“I always come here.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “When I'm all the way up here, and I look down, everything down there seems simpler. And I see things a little more clearly than I would if I were on the ground.” He smiled slightly but it wasn't a happy smile.
I was stunned into silence. My eyes fell on his face. I wanted to drop my gaze but I couldn't seem to for a minute.
“What?” He asked.
“That's exactly why I go up to high places.” I confessed.
“What are the odds? I found someone just like me.” His voice was lighter now. His reply somehow made me relax a little. I felt pretty weightless. I hadn't felt that way in a long time.

Bookworms

My friend, Kristen and I visited a giant book clearance sale last month. The sale was a big deal and hosted it in only a few states every year. I was so ecstatic that they picked Ohio.

"Oh my gosh!! Chloe, will you look at this?!" Kristen almost screamed. 

I was standing right behind her, reading the back of a book. The tittle of the book was "Article 5". But I let go of it at once because I knew better than to keep Kristen waiting. I turned around and said, "What?"

"Look!!" She squealed. I did and I couldn't hold back my enthusiasm. I understood why she was so exuberant now. She was gazing at a section filled with the books of the series we both loved. Kristen had read the entire series but she didn't have her own copies. She borrowed the books from one of her friends and since then, had wanted to get her own copies to keep on her overflowing bookshelf. I on the other hand, wanted to cross it off my ginormous list of books to buy and read before I turned 18.

"We are so getting these!!!" I said.

"Duh!" Kristen said, already grabbing two of each book from the series. 

"Oh my gosh! They are in perfect condition too! This is insane!"

"I know!!!" Kristen almost screamed. 

A few people were turning to stare. This big balding man wore a disdainful expression on his leathery face. I tried shushing Kristen but we both ended up laughing. We both had a small stack of books now and I suggested that we try stuffing them into our bags before moving on. The thing about this sale was that everything was so ridiculously cheap that instead of using boxes or plastic bags, serious book enthusiasts brought gigantic luggage bags. Like the kind people used to go for vacation in Japan. Kristen and I each brought one in addition to the backpacks hanging our shoulders. I unzipped my luggage and felt my jaw drop. "There is no way these'll fit," I told Kristen. 

"Gosh mine's full as well," she said. "Maybe our backpacks."

So we slung our backpacks around and opened them up. There was some space left. We had to shift a few things around but by the time we stood up, all the books were safely inside. "Now to get more," I said, cheerily. But I knew we couldn't go too far because we didn't have any room left.

We ventured into the Humor section. There were quite a number of interesting books there. We were looking though a book that contained the most useless facts on earth when they came up to us. Two guys about our age. One had auburn hair and the other had dark hair that was very close to black. The one with the auburn hair spoke first. 

"Is it hot in here or is it just you girls?" He said with a wide grin on his face. Kristen and I looked at each other than looked back at them. 

"That is the worst pickup line in the history of the world," Kristen said.

I laughed. "When she's right, she's right."

The guy with the auburn hair looked away then jabbed the dark haired one in the arm. "Thank you for that, asshole."

"Smooth," he commented, holding back laughter. "Hey. I'm Dominic. That one's Jake. So, bookworms don't blush?"

"What?" I asked.

"Jake isn't used to comebacks, just some swooning and blushing. That's what most girls give him," Dominic said.

"Okay that's not true. Look that wasn't my idea okay. He dared me to do it!" The who was evidently Jake insisted. 

"I'm trying to sell you as a lady killer," Dominic whispered too loudly. 

"Is that all?" Kristen asked. She could be really cold and critical if she wanted to. She had like this death stare that could make even the manliest guys run for the hills. I coughed to hide a laugh.

"Uh... Wait tell us your names." Dominic said.

"Why?" Kristen asked.

They didn't seem to know either. I stepped in. "Listen. Chip, Dale, we're not 'most girls' so I suggest you better find some other paper people to bother." They looked confused.

"Bye," Kristen said angelically.

We strode quickly away from them. When we were out of earshot, Kristen and I burst out laughing.
"Did you seriously just use our paper potato term? They won't get something like that!"

"Yes! First thing that popped into my head!" I said, laughing. "We are so awesome." 

"Yeah!"

"Okay I think we're about done here. Number 1, we can't carry anymore. Number 2, we don't have a million bucks."

"Right. Okay let's go." We made our way to the long line. This was going to be a long wait. Kristen and I didn't do much while waiting in line besides take a few photos. Eventually the two counters were free. I went to the one on the left while Kristen took the one on the right. The people at the counter unpacked all our books, counted them then put them back neatly. Kristen and I simultaneously got out our purses. Then a tall guy stepped deliberately in front of me. "Hey!" I said angrily. He glanced at me and smiled. I was taken aback. He was one of the guys from the duo we met earlier. Jake. I shot a glance at Kristen and saw Dominic in front of Kristen. "What do you think you're doing?" I asked him. 

He didn't answer. I watched what he was doing. He was handing the cashier money. For my books. He was paying for my books? He looked at me and said, "So this is how to make bookworms blush?" He asked.

I cleared my throat and said, "I'm gonna pay you back."

"No way," he said innocently stuffing his hands into his pockets. He helped me carry most of my books as well, ignoring when I protested. We met up with Dominic and Kristen. I didn't expect them to be this clever. Even Kristen was kind if flabbergasted now. 

"So... If you want to repay us... Let's all grab a coffee. There's a café down the road," Dominic said. 

"Uh... Sure?" I said, trying to see if that was what Kristen wanted as well.

“Yeah. Okay,” she said. She seemed impressed. I was too. 

They took the lead, carrying most of our books again. 
I shot a glance at Kristen. 

She shrugged and laughed once. “This’ll make a good story one day, you know?”

Those 3 Words

I didn't know what to say. In that moment, what I felt couldn't be expressed in those 3 common words that we humans use to convey affection. I was at a loss for words but a part of me insisted that the silence said more than words could. So I just stared at her, watching her smile as the wind ruffled her hair, memorizing the way her face looked when it was flushed. I noticed how there was a light in her eyes that I rarely saw in other people. She wore a small smile that made me a little frustrated inside. I wondered what she was thinking. Was she remembering something funny? Planning a practical joke on her friend? I wanted to ask but I didn't want the magical silence to leave right away.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked me, turning to look at me suddenly. I looked away, feeling my face warm up. It felt like she had caught me spying on her.

"You." I answered honestly.

She grinned then turned back to the lake. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

I wanted to say not as beautiful as her but it sounded too common and cheesy. "Yeah."

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever think about tomorrow? Like the near future?"

"Not really." I tended to live as much in the present as possible. Thinking too much about things I had no control over made me depressed.

She was quiet for a second. Then she looked at me and inched closer. She leaned on my shoulder seeming a little hesitant. "What do you see yourself doing? Like in 5 years?"

I shrugged. "The same thing. Waiting tables."

"What about me?"

"What about you?"

"Am I a part of your future?"

She silenced me for a moment. I didn't really think about it. Because whenever I did try to picture a future with her, it would always be too perfect to be believable.

"Am I?"

"That depends on you, doesn't it?" I mumbled, turning my head so she couldn't see my face even if she looked up. She did. I felt her head leave my shoulder. I continued. "Do you want to be a part of it?"

"Of course. I love you." She put her head back on my shoulder.

"I love you too," I said, pressing my lips to her hair.

I sincerely hoped that this would be enough to shield us from whatever obstacles that the universe would put in our way.

Skylar

            

            “Hi,” I said boldly.

            “Hi,” she replied.

            “So…” I began awkwardly. I was mentally scrolling through all the other scenarios of how I had asked girls out before. But something in me knew that navigating the waters with Skylar would be different. I was at a loss for words.

            “So?” She prompted. “Still hoping to know more about me?”

            “You want to tell me?”

            “Not really,” she said.

            “So where’re ya from?” I asked, trying to sound conversational.

            She looked at me again, her expression quizzical. “Everywhere.”

            “You move a lot?”

            “Sure.”

            “Where was the last place you lived?” I asked.

            “New York,” she answered.

            “Wow. Busy city. I went there to visit my Aunt one Christmas. It’s happening even at night.”

            “Sure is,” she agreed.

            “Why did you come here?”

            She bit her lip lightly, probably thinking what to answer. Or she could be wondering if I was a serial killer who wanted to know her personal details. She was hard to read. That was the difference between her and other girls. I knew my way around the average girl. But Skylar – her expressions and her curt replies. She was something else.

            “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that this town is less exciting than New York. Most people here want to go to places like that. Like New York,” I explained. Her expression smoothened a little, understanding coloring her eyes.

            “I have a relative here. My uncle.” She said cautiously as if afraid to reveal too much.

            “So, you liking Johanna High?”

            “Is this some sort of interrogation?” She asked suddenly.

            “Uh… no.” I glanced behind me and saw Troy and Matthew laughing. I gave them what I liked to call a death glare then turned back to Skylar. She had her lips pursed.

            “I was wondering if you’re free on Saturday night. There’s this party – a”

            “Now you’re asking me out, Jason Hunter?” She looked annoyed but I thought I saw a trace of humor somewhere in those hazel eyes.

            “Just being friendly.” I muttered.

            She laughed then, unexpectedly.

            “Something funny?”

            She ignored that. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that there’s something else you want to know.”

            I kept silent but felt my eyes tighten.

            “You’ve been asking me a lot of meaningless, generic questions really, really quickly and trying to have a conversation or ask me out or whatever. But there’s something else you’re curious about, aren’t you?”

            “Fine,” I allowed. “I’m curious. Why the first impression nonsense on the first day?” Truth is, I had been wondering about that since she spoke it.

            She shrugged. “To introduce myself was to assuage you that I was not an outsider. I thought it’d be cooler to prolong the mystery.”

            I thought about it for a moment. “Okay.”

            “So what did you think about me? When you first saw me.” I saw the curiosity in her eyes.

            “Beautiful. Exceptionally so,” I said easily. “Uh… different. Hard to please. Talented.” I said. 

            She considered. “Hmm.”

            “So are you going to tell me your first impression of me?”

            “I was right. I made sure of it,” she said.  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I realized that her opinion mattered to me. I wanted her to like me as a person.

            “Well, what was it?”

            She sat a little straighter, squared her shoulders. “Shallow. Jock. Ignorant. A little haughty. Brash. Tactless. Average.” I couldn’t find one good quality in the truckload of words she used to describe me.

            I reacted defensively. “You don’t know me.”

            “Numerous pranks last year including graffiti in the teachers’ bathroom, cheating in tests, terrorizing other students. Only friends: football team and basketball team. Cheerleaders as girlfriends. Sounds about right to me, Hunter.

            I felt my ears go hot. “I’m not some ignorant bastard. I have goals. Like…. Well and, do you realize I said great things about you and you said nothing nice about me?”

            “I thought we were being honest,” she said, her eyes wide with innocence. My fists clenched. She was wrong. She made me sound like a jerk. Surely I wasn’t a jerk.

            “Am I wrong?” She asked.

            “Not entirely,” I admitted, feeling the sudden anger leave my system.

            After a while, she said, “For what it’s worth, you’re wrong about me.” Before I could ask, she continued talking. “I assume this conversation isn’t what your friends pictured you’d be getting. They look edgy.”

            “Yeah I guess I should get back to them,” I muttered, feeling deflated. I stood and pushed the chair in. Surprisingly, she rose too. She walked right up to me.

            “Something for you.” She smirked.

            Before I could ask her what she meant, she grabbed the collar of my shirt with both hands and kissed me. On the lips. I felt her tongue caress my lower lip and her warm breath in my mouth. My lips moved with hers automatically. Like my lips were created specifically so I could kiss Skylar Breanne Robinson. Her right hand moved to the back of my head and my hand was on her forearm. The kiss was so perfectly packed with life that what must have been 5 seconds, seemed indefinite to me.

            When it was over, she smirked again, grabbed her untouched sandwich and left the cafeteria. She left the perfume of her presence to confuse me further.

Blizzards

I walked to her house after work. I didn't know what I was thinking actually. I didn't know where I got the nerve to walk to her house at night, knowing that her fiancé might be the one opening the door. The thought of that made me sick and I almost turned around. Almost. The air was cold and uninviting. It was snowing but only very slightly. Flecks of white drifted down from the sky but before hitting the ground, got carried someplace else by the wind. I thought back to the time when I could find a scene like this beautiful. A time when snowfalls made me want to be better for her. It always shocked me how much things had changed in a few short years. Now every snowfall was like a blizzard. I caught myself walking down memory lane again. Then I had to exit that place because even now, my heart wasn't whole enough to bear the atrocities.

I walked right up to her door and knocked it twice. Part of me was hoping she wasn't home so I would have to force myself to leave. I took several steps back not trusting myself. I had just mustered the courage to leave when I heard the door open. She stood in the frame with her lips pursed. Her green eyes were unmistakable to my heart but the better, more rational side of me told me that she wasn't who she used to be. People change.

I stood there, with my hands shoved into the pockets of my jeans, not sure what to do now.

She glanced behind her for a second as if checking if anyone was there. Maybe Brandon, her fiancé, really was at home. I thought she would close the door and pretend she didn't see me but after a minute, she came out and met me by the edge of the porch. I hated the way I still found her so beautiful. I hated the way that even her unsmiling face set my heart beating faster than normal.

"Lucas," she said. "You shouldn't be here."

The words stung but I ignored it. "I just wanted to wish you a happy wedding. You'll make a breathtaking bride, you know? I would love to see you there but… I really don’t think I’ll be welcome…so…" I trailed off, feeling stupid. This was pathetic.

"Are you okay?" She asked and I wondered what I looked like through her eyes.

"Of course." I lied. "You know me. Anyway, you need to promise me something, Julie. Just be happy. Promise you'll be happy with Brandon. Just please. Promise me."

"S-sure," she stuttered.

I wanted to give her an acceptable parting gesture but nothing came to me and the silence lengthened. Finally, I awkwardly held out my hand for a handshake.

She stared at my outstretched hand for a moment, deliberating. I had the feeling that she would reject it. Unexpectedly, she took a step towards me. Then, she wrapped her arms around me, pressing her cheek against my chest. She used to hug me this way, years ago. She had said that hearing my heartbeat reminded her that the world was a lot less complicated than she thought.

And I suppose she was right. The world is not complicated. It's just unfair. Because how could this be justified? I watched her walk back into the house before I turned to leave realizing that this would be the last time I'd see her.

It was like watching her walk out of my life. Again.

Dylan

After an hour, I decided I couldn't stay there anymore. I stealthily left. You would think that a good girl like me has never even considered leaving without permission. Well, we can't all be saints. I ducked out of the window and climbed down the trellis quickly. The night air was nice, refreshing and peaceful. I slung my bag over my shoulder and made it out of there without being caught. In my bag was a few items. My cell phone, several books, money of course and pepper spray. I wasn't sure where to go. It was pretty late. I settled for a boring old cafe. I ordered hot chocolate and sipped it slowly while reading the book that was apparently selling like crazy. It centered on vampires that lived among us. Throughout the time I was there, I took notice of young man that looked at me too often to be coincidental. Feeling uneasy, I quickly finished my drink, paid and got the hell out of there. I headed home quickly. It wasn't very far. I walked because I knew if I took my car, my parents would find out. I thought it was ridiculous that I still had a curfew as if I was 17 years of age. My mother was like that. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of fast approaching footsteps that came from behind me. I turned and saw the man that had his eyes on me in that cafe.

“Hey beautiful.” He said.

“What do you want?” I asked keeping my tone light and fearless.

“You.” He laughed. “You look lonely. I thought I'd join you.”

“I'm fine. Thanks for your concern.” I turned away from him and walked faster.

He grabbed my wrist.

“Let go of me.” I said evenly. With my other hand, I reached into my bag and wrapped my fingers around the can of pepper spray.

He smirked and came closer until our faces were inches away. His breath blew into my face. Alcohol. Definitely. He was going to kiss me. I felt my stomach curl into a ball as the fear registered.

Keeping my calm, I pulled out the pepper spray and pressed on the nozzle aiming at his eyes.

He cussed and cried out in pain. “Damn it!”

I immediately shook off his hand and ran like crazy. I didn't pay attention to where I was going, just what I was running from. I ran for several minutes. I glanced behind me periodically to make sure he wasn't following. Just then, I bumped, or more like crashed into somebody. “I am so sorry.” I said quickly and started running again.

“Wait!” The person I knocked down called.

I didn't wait. I just kept running.

He caught up with me easily. He ran next to me. “Who are we running from?” He asked.

“What? What do you think you're doing?” I asked shocked.

“Why are you running?” He asked me back.

“Why are you running with me?”

“Who's chasing you?” He asked stubbornly refusing to answer any of my questions.

I groaned and stopped running when I thought we were in the clear. I didn't know where we were now. All I knew was that we were behind some building near the main road. I panted trying to catch my breath. He did the same.

“Well?” He asked after a while.

I looked up to study him. He had brown hair that was a mess due to all the running. Somehow, it still looked good. He was dressed in a dark blue long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves pushed up slightly and jeans that were designed to look torn and faded. What prevented me from responding was his eyes. They were blue I realized. They looked warm and kind.

“Hello? Anybody in there?” He asked.

I flushed and said, “Some guy was chasing me.”

“Some guy?”

“He was harassing me. I murdered his eyes with pepper spray.” I said showing off the can of pepper spray.

“Tough.” He commented smiling. Then, he was serious. “Are you alright?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Cause if you aren't, I'd be happy to go back to that guy and punch his teeth out.”

“Why?” I asked confused. “You don't know me.”

“I despise guys who treat women like that.” He shrugged and leaned against the cinder wall of the building we were behind.

“Ah... I see.”

“What's your name?”

“Lilliane.”

“Pretty name.”

“Thanks.” I smiled.

“You should go home.” He told me. “Around here, if you're this beautiful,” He said gesturing to me making me blush, “you shouldn't be around here. It's not really safe, you know?” He smiled. “Oh I almost forgot.” He said reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small silver object. He handed it to me. “It fell out of your bag when we bumped into each other.” He smiled again.

“Thanks so much. Actually, I bumped into you.” I reminded him.

“Right. You were trying to run backwards. My advice: Get eyes on the back of your head.” He smirked.

I scowled. Then I asked, “Did I hurt you? I think you cushioned my fall.” My face and tone was sheepish.

He looked at his elbows that were slightly grazed. “Not much. I'll live.” He said.

“Sorry. I really didn't mean to.”

“It's alright. Go on home now. Need me to call a cab for you? You don't seem very capable.” He teased.

“I'll walk. My house isn't far.”

“Are you kidding? After that experience you still want to walk?”

“I'm not supposed to be out.” I said biting my lip. “If I call a cab and all, the headlights, the sound of the car, I don't know. I'm afraid my parents will wake up.”

“Alrighty then. I'll walk you. If I leave you alone now, and you get bothered by some guy again, it'll be partially my fault.”

“That's a strange excuse.” I commented. “What the hell?” I said shrugging.

“So what're you doing out this late?” He asked as we started walking.

“Clearing my head.”

He snorted. “Bet it didn't work.”

“Nope.” I admitted.

“Want to tell me what's going on?”

“I don't think so.” I said warily giving him a wry smile.

“Right. Sorry. I guess it's too much to tell to someone you barely met.” He replied understandingly.

“So, you never told me your name.” I said when we were a block away from my house.

“Dylan.” He smiled. I realized that he had a very nice smile. It was the kind of smile that could brighten anybody's day no matter how crappy the day was.

“Well, thank you for your help tonight, Dylan.”

“It was my genuine pleasure.” He mimicked my formal tone. His eyes danced playfully.

“Alright. I should... get inside.” I said regretfully. Why did I sound so rueful?

“Okay. I'll be seeing ya, Lil.” He smiled at me one last time then he was gone.