Another story

I'm sorry that I've been posting my school work, I'm just trying to get into a habit of posting. This was an assignment where we had to portray a season as a person.

He was sitting there, marveling in the way she sat, almost frozen in her beauty. Her hair was the lightest shade of blonde, almost white, that blended into her pearl white skin. She brushed a lock of hair from her eye and she looked up at him, her icy blue eyes almost froze him where he sat. She got up and swiftly walked out of the room, as she whisked passed him he smelled her aroma, like winter green and pine, it felt like the winter breeze in the morning. He had loved her for a long time, he had watched the way her parents divorce had changed her from a warm and happy person to this icicle of a girl that stood today; he felt as though she had given up on love and men because it was a lost cause, because everybody ends up alone.
He followed her quickly outside into the summer’s heat, she was sitting on a bench now, reading Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, one tear slowly trickled down her cheek. He approached her, he was finally going to tell her how he feels, how he has always felt, that he loved her. She looked up at him and it was almost as he heard her heart shatter as he spoke his words. She stood up without warning and pushed him, the place where her hand touched felt frost bitten, and as he fell to the ground he looked at her, she was standing there watching him, he felt as though everything was happening in slow motion. As he hit the ground the soft grass cradled him, he felt as though he was unable to move, mostly from the shock from what had just happened. She lowered herself to her knees and laid down beside and traced her arctic fingers along his jawbone. She brought her face closer to his, he could feel her polar breath on his lips, as she kissed him he could feel his lips shivering, then he could feel nothing, his whole body was numb. The numbness was percolating through his body, finally, he could feel nothing, he was frozen, his heart had stopped and he was laying there unable to move. She stood up and looked down upon him, then she spoke, her words fell down upon him like snowflakes “For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken. It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack”, he had never heard a DH Lawrence quote spoken with such passion and elegance.

My Lunch Observation

Our assignment: to go sit in a cafe and observe someone who is a patron then write a short story using what you observed.
I observed a woman sitting in a corner, she was glaring at each bite of her pastry and hiding her face from the rest of the restaurant. My short story was recieved well by my instructor so I thought I would do the lazy thing and use it for a blog post as well instead of doing a real blog post

Sitting here at my my table, eating lunch alone again. Why did I choose to eat this pastry ? I’m definitely going to regret this, my diet is not going well. I feel like everyone is staring at me, they’re probably thinking “she does not need another pastry”. My iced tea has much too much sugar in it, I probably shouldn’t drink it. Why are they staring at me? Looking around nobody is actually looking at me, but I can’t help but regret this bright green shirt I chose to wear. The newspaper is just as depressing as my waistline, issues seem to just keep growing. Why is she looking at me? There’s this girl in the corner, it seems like she keeps looking at me, she takes a bite of her sandwich and now she’s writing something down! Is she writing about me? Probably not, I’m a very uninteresting specimen, nobody would be interested in studying me. Why am I eating this pastry? My mother’s words keep echoing through my head “a moment on your lips, a lifetime on your hips”, no wonder I feel so ashamed. Everyone is staring at me, why am I hiding my face? Why am I so paranoid? Do I have anything planned this week? Of course I don’t, my day planner is as barren as my pantry after a night of midnight snacking. She is writing about me! Fine, well then this is a perfect time to start writing my book, it will be entitled “My Lunch Under Observation”, we’ll see how she feels about someone taking notes on her. The small girl takes a bite of her sandwich, she takes a note on a piece of paper, now she’s eating part of her friend’s muffin, she takes a drink, she looks at me, she takes a drink. This is such a boring book, nobody will read it. Good, she’s leaving, now I can enjoy my pastry.