A brief moment of nature's touch on my skin caused a shift of my attention. My arms extended while I observed the bits and pieces of winter collapse as they melt upon greeting the warmth lying underneath my exterior. The window to my soul reflected the sky blue, and the flakes of snow pouring down while my hair strands of dark blew away upon the bone-piercing air pushing against me.
As the auburn leaves burn away, tree branches nude of its clothing—the beginning of winter, white piled upon white, and upon all surfaces.
With the realization, I hung up my hood over my head as a cover, while zipping the final layer of my clothing tightly wrapped with my arms over my body—an embrace for additional warmth. My pace increased and my eyes shortly found, 'Esther's Cafe'. I sighed as I rushed inside, puffs of fogged breath flowing out of my mouth, securing myself from the shivering temperature. I was kindly greeted by familiars as the bell rang when the entrance door opened, I approached them with a smile, reciprocated from one they had given me first.
I approached, where a waitress I recognized stood—grinning with anticipation, who'd gone ahead to take my unspoken order, one that I only confirmed before she assigned to a coworker as she managed my payment. Once completed, I went over by the window as I sat an empty table of two, sitting on one where the entrance door was included within my vision. I dropped my hood down as I combed my head strands with my fingers, seeing my own reflection translucent by the glass window beside me, one that began to collect bits of snowflakes, slowly—but surely.
My head traveled all directions, allowing my eyes to observe as I noticed the deprivation of presence within the area. My heart thumped as I felt myself smiling for the serenity, an aspect I'd constantly enjoyed here. It was always limited of presence and noise, yet just enough that it doesn't feel empty and lonesome. Still, they had an adequate amount of customers to keep it alive and thriving to remain. I'd long realized most of them that stayed were akin to myself, ones who enjoyed peace and silence, alongside the cozy ambience that often reminded of home.
A small thud returned my consciousness as I was met with a warm cup of coffee placed on my table before my eyes. My eyes traveled, following the trail that started from the arm that retracted itself briefly after placing my order, ending at a fine man with a shy smile who slightly bowed, leaving my eyes as soon as his met mine—and left without a word, the light warmth emitted from his presence leaving the cold to return and linger.
The sound of a ringing bell caught my attention as I watched the new presence keep himself out for a brief moment to swat the small piles of white that caught onto his clothes before stepping inside the warm space. He exhaled relief and connected his hands together, bringing them up to his mouth before exhaling softly and rubbing his palms together. He glanced around shortly as his eyes met mine fleetingly before approaching the counter where a waiter greeted him comfortably, and one that he returned. I took note of the proximity of their friendliness that was spread through the entire staff present, concluding he was a regular as the scene of his order taken unfolds similarly to my previous experience.
I returned my attention to the coffee presented before me as I stirred the ingredients with the straw between my fingers before carefully taking a sip, flinching away when the scalding liquid burned my tongue. My gaze returned to his figure as a strange feeling of familiarity and recognition roused from within, though as I searched through my brain, I was unable to pinpoint and find the answer for the feelings brimming underneath. I decided to take my eyes off him as I realized I'd been poking holes in his figure, and once I grew aware of his captivating appearance, it caused ponders in my mind and curiosity to blow up, filling me with desire to know of his identity and interact with him—which I had to forcefully push off my mind as I knew the chances of the scenarios that'd unfold in my head were slim, and nearly—or certainly impossible.
My thoughts easily faded away as I took a good sip of my coffee, taking out my phone as I searched through the app store to find games I could play to waste the free time I have without too much brain work. Though as I looked at the date, reminding me that tomorrow I must return to the dread-some lectures, and much brainwork from all the assigned tasks and short deadlines, I took a deep breath and exhaled exasperatedly.
The loud screech of a dragged chair lifted my head up, and drifted my gaze away from my phone to the source of the noise. I watched as the man sat by an empty table beside mine, alongside the window as he sat facing my direction. He glanced up at me once he settled down and we made a good, one-second eye contact before awkward crept up my shoulder and began to enter my body as a tense atmosphere began to form—my eyes shifted away, directing my attention to my belongings as I placed my phone inside my purse and took out a novel I'd brought along.
I held the book by its edges as my wrist joints landed on the edge of the table, making it slanted while facing my direction. I briefly glanced through the title, the author, and the short quoted praises of the book, before flipping the pages over as I made my way to the bookmark that I've placed somewhere in the middle since I've last read. Then, I proceed to scan the lines and assimilate its content as I found myself immersed in the story shortly.
Its plot was simple, without much complexities within, however its allure was strong enough to pull one inside the life of its characters.
It shared a story of a boy's life whose personality changes within each passing season. Albeit unintentionally—he had a condition that followed throughout his life, and it wasn't particularly a physical illness or some form of unhinged. He was normal, only that his speaking, actions, and thoughts alternated on its own whenever one season ends, and another is birthed. Despite this, he was aware—conscious, of the way his inner-everything changes with each season, and there isn't ever one that repeats itself. He remembers each of his actions, thoughts, and speeches that might even contradict themselves at times, and it causes him to question his true identity at times, but such thoughts of insecurities were pointless as he himself was an inevitable cause. One that is made permanently that way, and unchangeable. At least, until he found the love of his life. 'It was the first my heart had beaten for another, and the first my mind had thought of another.' He loved her at first sight, and for once, he wanted to appear normal, in which he strives greatly to pursue her love, sacrificing himself in the process as he battles his condition to gain a sense of identity once and for all.
It was a sweet and heartwarming, simple love story. I adored his process of struggles for a change he made only to reach the heart of his beloved.
Inevitably, I—as a human, occasionally dreamed of such a love story. Though I don't really believe in love at first sight, I still had a longing desire for a happy ever after love story—for a man who loves me so dearly he sacrifices a part of himself for the sake of having my heart. Albeit I'm much too aware and conscious of myself and my own reality that I can't ever hold onto that dream for too long. It was far too ideal for the true reality of life, and certainly out of reach for myself, but that was fine. During my childhood, I'd constantly dreamed of such a prince charming to take me away someday and bring us to a happy ever after life, but once I grew—I understood that it was merely impossible. That it's not true, and even if in the slightest bit that it is—in the end we'll all reach our fated end anyway—and pain will never subside.
My sense of reality vanished as I lost myself in the life of another for what felt like a while, but once I regained it and looked over my surroundings—I noticed how deprived it is of people, considering the only customers left here were the man in front of me, and myself. The time had passed and the sun had set as the sky was filled with darkness. A small thud replaced the silence as I closed the pages shut together tightly before packing it inside my purse. The coffee I'd been consistently sipping lightly on since daytime had become an empty glass. I noticed the cafe was an hour before closing, and I decided to leave before the clouds disappeared further within the darkness. I stood up, and the loud creak of the dragged chair made me grit my teeth in cringe. Though I shortly recovered and stepped towards the exit as I waved my farewells to some of the waiters that stood by different areas cleaning up. I glanced at the only customer aside from myself remaining, and it slightly surprised me that he was already staring at me, though he bashfully broke eye contact as he paused his scribbling and closed his notebook, packing his own belongings. I rotated my head back towards the exit as I walked out and stood as the door lightly swished after I retrieved my grip to let it close on its own.
I froze on my spot as I realized that I might just not be able to get back to my apartment. Due to the maintenance work along the sidewalk of the path I often take, I can't return through that path. Instead I could take a farther path, but I'd need a vehicle. During this time, there's barely any cabs or taxis so I felt doomed, but I had to think of a way. I just decided to try calling a cab somehow, if push comes to shove—I'll have to resort to using google maps, although I dreaded it greatly considering my past experiences of getting furthermore lost—or having to walk in a very dark alley encountering a few creeps along the way which was a displeasing experience and memory to have and remember.
The snowflakes stacked after one another, and consistently continued. I waited for a few minutes searching for a cab, and I nearly felt death approaching as the cold warped over my body and began to enter me internally. Though it was only for a short while since I've begun to stand there, particular areas of my body began to numb, and my eyelashes had increased in weight as the whites had rested upon it. A small bell rang in my ears as I shifted, stepping aside from the door to see the last customer exiting as we made eye contact and he observed my state, sympathy filling his blank canvas of expression.
"Do you need a ride home?" he asked me. I looked at him slightly surprised at his unexpected offer—
"Ah—I hope I'm not coming off as creepy, if that's what you're thinking.. I just thought that it seemed like you needed it, considering you haven't left yet."
He laughed nervously and sent a sheepish smile as he finished the rest of his unquestioned justification at a quick pace.
"No, no. Don't worry, the thought didn't even come up until you mentioned it," I responded almost immediately, and abruptly paused once I'd stated my reply to his sudden defensive statement.
"Um, but.. You're right, I'm in a bit of a situation.. If it's really alright with you.. I'll gladly take you up on that offer," I said, feeling a tad shy as I felt quite bothered to owe a stranger a favor on our first encounter.
"Right, I'm Calix," he said as he extended his hand out for a reciprocated handshake. Which I did so, with a small smile—but before I could introduce myself as well—
"Aslynne, right? Majoring in journalism at Pristine University? I also go there, in arts major, we occasionally see each other in the library. "
The shockwave that slammed me nearly shook my heart as he stated that, and threatening thoughts were warning my mind—but I shut it down, and tried to regain control over my rational thinking. Finally, understanding flowed through my senses as I realized why he didn't seem unknown in the beginning. The tensions disappeared, but as I thought further—he might as well be an informed kidnapper trying to take me, and the reason why I felt familiarized—because I've seen him before when he was stalking me—even though I can't actually recall such a memory—
..I suppose that's where I have to stop myself—it's too much. Though.. I never know, if I happen to be even the slightest bit correct, then.. I've taken boxing lessons in the past, I can pack a punch or two.
"Alright, shall we go? It only seems to get colder within each second, I'm freezing out here."
His statement snapped me out of my trance as I nodded and followed him, only realizing now the state my body is in. Numb had consumed my nose, and I could feel hypothermia crawling its way into my body with each passing second that I'm still here.
He led me to his car, opening the door for me as I gratefully seated myself inside. Once we were both inside, we took a moment to relieve ourselves within the warmth, before preparing to leave as I clicked the seatbelt tight over my body and he started the engine.
"So, where should I drop you off?" he asked, his eyes traveling to mine fleetingly.
"You can drop me off at the university."
I answered, my eyes leaving his side profile and shifting to my own hands cuddling one another as I exhaled, basking myself in the coze that is the warmth entering me whilst the cold leaves. The apartment I lived in is only a few blocks away from the university, but I decided it's better keeping that information to myself. After all, I know nothing of him, and neither do I know if he has any unspoken intentions towards me.
He pondered at my answer for a while, before asking a specific location of my stay, "wait, do you live in Kint's Tale?"
The car halted as the traffic light turned red, his gaze penetrated on me. I felt the air leave my lungs as my paranoia rose up—gurgling at the back of my mouth, ready to pour out. I froze, taking a moment from answering as one particular thought lingered—shouting inside my head as it fired bullets to my heart.
How does he know?
The previous suspicions that I'd thought ridiculous after properly using my brain cells to digest returned as related concepts and possibilities formed in my mind. Then, my eyes moved—and I saw the time. It had been 2 minutes since he asked—too long, so I took a silent breath and responded.
"Why?"
Now, he actually appeared creepy for being able to guess exactly where I live, and there were countless possibilities that could lead him to that conclusion, which was worse for me who overthinks as a hobby. Uncomfort began to sprout inside, I felt unsafe. Suspicions were all over my mind, but my rational mind knew I couldn't just conclude things baselessly.
"Well, I live there, and it's relatively close to the university. So I thought you might be living there too..?"
He answered quite unsurely—as if the realization hadn't even entered his mind how misleading his confirming-question was, especially considering we had only met a couple of minutes prior. It nearly triggered my fight or flight mode—profanity tried to crawl its way out, before I swallowed back in harshly. Though I only had myself to blame, as I had thought of the possible risks which included the scenario that'd unfold just now and possibly-nearly escalated, and still went either way. At least, hearing his reasonable answer, as well as the only answer I'd thought of in my head that I could genuinely consider authentic, I felt slight relief upon his answer.
"Ah, I see.. Yes, I live there too," I reluctantly affirmed. It felt vexatious to do that, but I couldn't leave him hanging. Not when my surmising could be entirely wrong and he truly might be a good man who was only trying to help a damsel in distress.
"I'm on the fifth floor, are you there too? We might be neighbors unknowingly."
He smiled brightly, and I reminded myself I ought not to judge a book by its cover. I silently prayed he'd return to his previous demeanor in the cafe, instead of the current extrovert he's presenting, but the actions of another identity aside from mine isn't one in my control, or anyone else's except the identity themselves, so I was only wasting my own energy and concentrating on negativity, which is useless because nothing will change even if I do so. I took my time with the silence. Green blazed and vehicles began to move including ours.
"I'm.. on the sixth floor."
I said quietly. Awkward seeped inside the ambience and sat there comfortably, causing a nuisance to all else other than itself. I didn't even think, yet thoughts came to my head. It stirred my emotions and empathy stroked my heart as I felt liable for the ambience that had come to be, considering he'd made efforts to converse, yet I didn't reciprocate the initiative. Though again, I'd apologize to all who've had to deal with such tension due to my own incapability of socializing well. Yet, suddenly a thought pushed itself forward and the words were forming by the tip of my tongue, about to jump out as the spotlight had shone upon the thought that until now—had only been sitting quietly in the corner by the back of my mind—one I acknowledged, but hadn't reacted upon despite its worth.
"How did you.. know my name in the first place?"
I mustered the courage, and the words broke out of its cage. The thought had birthed since the first time he mentioned my name despite our non-existent former interaction. He kept his mouth shut for a while, his attention on the road and the corners of his lips curved upwards. My nails battled to reduce the perturbation vibrating heavily, the thought that I have to repeat myself or simply let a pivotal answer to my inflated curiosity be unanswered was dreadsome, in the possibility that his ears lacked quality to hear my soft voice.
"I once passed by you, when you were trying to fix the zipper on your bag, and saw your name in a tiny corner," he finally spoke, a gentle smile plastered on his face as he turned his head to meet my eyes—before returning to the road.
I shifted my body as his concentration was away to have a better view of him—watching his movements and minor expressions. I knew there wasn't any reason for my awareness to be heightened in his presence, yet—but that was all the more reason to be.
"So what do you actually do in journalism?"
His deep voice weighed heavily as it entered my senses down to my spine. A couple of answers popped up in my head, and it wasn't difficult to determine the final answer to say, but my conscience was trembling as I opened my mouth.
"Nothing much, just writing." I said straightforwardly.
It was a matter-of-fact answer, but he accepted it and didn't dig further, which was somewhat relieving. Still, it was quite humorous to see his deadpan expression as he received my answer.
"Do you like it there?" he asked, and I noticed an underlying tone in his voice as he spoke—one that I couldn't identify, but I decided I shouldn't analyze too deeply. However, I couldn't—and before I could rationally choose the answer to give, it came out on its own.
"I don't know."
It was an honest answer. His question, despite being simple—was difficult to answer. From the corner of my eye, I saw the small nod of his response to my answer.
"You.. um, arts major, right?.." I tried reciprocating his question as I recalled his previous introduction, though my jaw clenched as I shut my eyes briefly, silently scolding myself for such a structurally failed question.
"Ah, yeah. I hate mine, it sucks."
Fortunately, he understood my question well and answered accordingly. Though his answer sparked curiosity within me, I found myself intrigued by his answer that I felt relatable.
"Why?.. if you don't mind–"
I pried, though as polite as I tried to be. I glanced up at him, and he didn't seem to mind it, but hopefully that's the same underneath his exterior—not that I should care about it..? For a moment, I felt doubtful as I thought there wasn't truly any point trying to get to know him as a person in the first place, since I'm sure after all of this is over—we'd return to strangers or I'd wake up with my hands tied up and my mouth taped, but why does every single one of my action need to have a proper reason to it? Can't I just succumb to my primitive instincts as natural as it is?
"Well, arts majors do help me refine my skills and all, but I don't know. It doesn't feel as free anymore. I feel like it's no longer my art that I'm making. It almost feels like I've lost the one thing I actually feel talented in," he said with a mourning expression.
All thoughts left my mind as the only thing I could centralize my attention on was how I felt for him, relating in a similar way. I felt empathetic, and I almost wanted to comfort—but I decided against that and stayed silent, busying myself with the battle of my hands and kept my focus lingering solely on that.
"I.. can understand how you feel.."
The words I never intended to say left my mouth for its freedom, and my voice croaked out softly—a volume even I wasn't sure I'd be able to hear properly if someone else used it when they spoke. It felt strange, but it wasn't unpleasant—and the weight in my chest was lifted a bit as I stated. I felt his gaze on me for a significant duration, and I glanced at him to confirm my intuition. The silence grew loud and I sighed quietly as I looked out the window that was almost completely coated with white.
After passing a few traffic lights, I settled my gaze upon him, seeing his serious expression. He looked deep in thought, and a humorous thought came up—one that made me cough while swallowing the laugh that nearly left my lips, reprimanding my own mind for having such thoughts at the wrong time. Though I noticed the crease in between his eyebrows and suddenly something felt stuck in my throat, one that I needed to throw out—and my tongue began to twist as I felt my body trying to eject it.
I opened my mouth, "anyway.. Do you like to draw? Or something related to art?" it all came out as fast as my mouth shut when it was finally let loose. I could breathe, and the barrier was released as my body stopped trying to evict the tongue out of my mouth.
"Ah. Well, yes. I've liked to draw or make origami since I was young. Once I started, usually I'd forget the time being so immersed, but it was always really fun, and I loved it. Nothing can tell me otherwise."
His confidence emanated in the atmosphere, as he smiled brightly sharing his love for art. I was intrigued, he seemed very direct and self-assured. The qualities absent within me, and ones that often inspired.
"I see," I replied quietly, nodding my head to his answer.
"What about you? Writing?" he reciprocated the question, and I almost bit my tongue—I forgot to expect the possibility that he could return the same inquiry I threw at him. Anxiety lightly stroked my heart, and my mouth dried up, it was difficult to even open—I couldn't think.
"I.. I used to write things as long as I had pen and paper as a kid, I just.. grew with it, I guess."
I mumbled after my voice freed itself. I nearly panicked as I answered him—the speculation a reminder to keep my guard unfaltering, but as I paid attention to the view in front of me—the car moving closer towards the familiar, tall apartment building—solace embraced my heart as I felt mortified for believing my own conjectures in the first place.
I loved reading in particular, it was what brought me to start writing. However, reading books—mainly fairy tales at first—had broadened my imagination as it began to fill up with my own yearned desires that I searched for, in books. But once I realized that I wouldn't be able to find any, for nobody's made it. My hankering to have it was strong, and I was hammered with determination. That was how I began to write, and ever since then, writing became a habit every chance I get with a pen and paper. Writing was the only subject my confidence rooted from, that was why whenever the thought of the possibility to lose it petrifies me—it drives me insane.
"I see, I guess reading comes along with that, huh?" he assumed, and I debated to tell him that it was the other way around—but I simply opted to press my lips together into a thin line and a small nod when he glanced my way.
The car halted to a stop as he parked his car before the apartment. A huge text near the top of the building wrote, 'Kint's Tale', with the radiating light of yellow on it. We both got out, and a small beep sounded as he locked his car before entering the building with me. We entered the elevator, and he pressed number 5 and 6, which I quietly thanked him for. When the elevator dinged as it paused on the 5th floor, the door automatically opened, he took a step and I opened my mouth—
"Thank you.. for the ride, Calix." I said gratefully, mentally punching myself as the misconduct weighed in my heart heavily for harboring such ill-thoughts of the man who's been nothing but nice the entire night.
"Don't worry about it, my pleasure. "
He smiled broadly, and I was about to bid him farewell, but his finger stayed on the button that kept the door open. He stayed silent for a while, keeping the same contagious, bright smile on his face. Finally, he blinked and took a small breath,
"Alright then, I'll be going now!" he bid farewell, retrieving his finger off the button. He grinned cheerfully as he stepped out of the elevator, turning his body to face me with a cheerful grin—one that infected me as I returned a smile, albeit smaller and a tad shy. He seemed a bit taken aback, but his joyful expression didn't waver.
"You have sweet dimples. Smile more, makes you sweeter, y'know?"
The words left his lips with a small tilt of his head as the door began to close, a teasing smile displayed on his charming appearance. The door closed before I could process his statement and I couldn't help the way my mouth agape at his statement, and how butterflies swarmed my intestines. Though I swatted my hand as I slammed the palms of my hand to my warm cheeks—an attempt to not let his—once again, misleading statement get into me as I headed to my room once a ding entered my hearing and the door opened, the light on the 6th button flickering before dimming.
It was a cold day, but my heart felt warm.