mylovelyone: (Default)
my.lovely.one ([personal profile] mylovelyone) wrote2009-12-17 05:14 pm

Infinite (needs critique)

The sun reflected off skyscraper after skyscraper after skyscraper, blinding him as he squinted up at them. They rose like great glass and metal columns holding up the great blue roof. His sweaty hand tightened on his suitcase and he looked down the river-street that teamed with movement as people and cars flowed down the current. He wiped his sticky brow with his white shirt cuff, the smell of sweat and laundry detergent assaulting his nose, and continued walking. He passed faces, familiar from the backs of books and his own imagination, and sometimes he would stop and wonder what he was doing here in the first place.

He stopped at a small, dim-looking pub for lunch. The inside was crowded and noisy and he inched his way past the waiters in their crisp black uniforms and the woman in long dresses and their hair piled in curls on top of their heads. The counter held only one occupant, a girl sitting with her ankles crossed. Her long dark hair fell down her back in waves and reminded him of springtime dances back home, the memory saturated by wisteria and hay. He took a seat on the dark stained stool one down from her, not wanting to be alone. He always felt nervous in an unfamiliar place but there was nowhere familiar anymore.

Her glass held a puddle of drying orange juice and a half-eaten piece of burnt toast lay on a discarded plate. Her chin rested on hand and she scrawled hastily as though her hand moved too slowly for the images in her head. A pimply teenager behind the counter took his order- milk and a ham sandwich- and furtively looked at the girl on his left. The boy behind the counter handed him his milk in an opaque glass. He looked about the girl’s age; too young to be on their own, too old to need a father. He sipped his milk.

“My name is Juliet.” She didn’t look up.

He choked on his milk. “Oh. Wolfe.”

“New here?”

“Just arrived today.”

She dotted a period with emphasis then turned to look at him. Her green eyes sat unreadable in her fresh young face. “Welcome.” She smiled. “The City is lucky to have you.”

He shook his head. “That has yet to be determined.” The boy handed him his sandwich.

She cocked her head. “Where are you living?”

“Wordsworth lane.”

She smiled and touched her chest. “Rousseau court. We are nearly neighbors.” Her green eyes were so inviting and he looked away.

“Yes, I suppose we are.”

She glanced at her pocketwatch. “I’d best be going.” She passed him a small cream card, her fingertips touching his. “It was nice meeting you.”

“And you.” He looked up at her as she smiled and disappeared in a whirl of green and white skirt.