someone like her is always a surprise

This love story lacks both “love” and “story”…

It was a small town; everyone knew everyone.

I can still remember the first time I saw her.  It was 11 am and a strange time for someone like her to be at home so I knew she must have been a house-sitter or a nanny or something like that. It was a cold day and everything had frozen over. No one was really use to the weather and everyone was tiptoeing around.

She was tiptoeing one way and I was walking the other. As we passed one another we exchanged a “Hi” and that was enough.

She had my interest.

The next time I saw her was at the tearoom. She was reading alone. In fact, every time I saw her she was alone. I couldn’t tell what her book of choice was, but I knew it wasn’t – like every other girl – “Eat, Pray, Love”…

She had my attention!

These sort of run-ins continued for awhile. At the produce store. At the library. At the boathouse. She kept appearing but I kept disappearing.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when I saw her at the train station, but I was! Someone like her is always a surprise…

I was sitting in the waiting room, waiting for my train to take me to the North Sea. Then, in she walked, the prettiest of girls who I had my eyes on for the last two months. She came up to me and said, “Excuse me, is this the train to the North Sea?” In a culture of constant change, she had classic beauty written all over her.

I had only ever seen her from across the room and now that she was up close, her beauty was magnified tenfold.

She was quiet but confident. She was slim but had an unusual strength about her. She had my attention like no one else.

Wearing a cute little knitted tuque her long dark hair poured down the sides; I was speechless. “Um…” I tried to think of something clever to say, but really “yes” would have sufficed. I had been waiting for this chance for two months now, but like a turtle I went into my shell.

After an awkward pause, the guy sitting beside me answered properly “…yes it is.” She sat down beside him and the two soon struck up a conversation and the two strangers proceeded to sit together on the train.

I could’ve gone up to her and said something, but I told myself, “It didn’t really matter.”

I had my small black book, my pen, my thoughts and an entire countryside waiting to be captured by my mind. My plan was to spend the day by the sea, writing beautiful words, seamless sentences and colourful stories. I wanted to be The Solitary Individual and that’s exactly what I told myself I would be. “I’m trying to write great things and I can’t be disturbed by a girl, even a cute one.”

Cause we all know that young men nowadays would rather change the world, than risk talking to a girl…

On the train I passed beautiful valleys, streams, forests and towns, but I couldn’t write about any of the things in my sight, the only thing I could write about was the thing that was now out of sight…

To Be Continued.

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Categories: culture, story

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  1. lust and awe (part 1) « the scent of a city - February 10, 2011

    […] Part II of Somewhere Like Her Is Always A Surprise […]

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