Sitting alone

It was always a still place, that's why he chose it. He didn't like crowds. He was certainly never one of the lads - heaven forfend. He always enjoyed simple pleasures: the sun creating flashes on the canal as he sat next to it with a book; watching the stars at night, way out in the country where there was no orange haze to dim their beauty; listening to the football results on a Saturday, something that always relaxed him and so many other things, nothing that costs much and nothing that involved a commotion. That's why he liked the bench.

He would use it every single lunch time to eat his homemade sandwiches in peace and quiet, away from the telephones and latterly the hum of computers and, if he was honest, the vulgarity of his colleagues.

It was at the bench that he first saw her. He had never seen such beauty. She had auburn hair that was brushed into thick waves that hugged her shoulders and neck. Her checks were flushed with the fresh breeze that blew that day, highlighting the purity of her glowing skin. He couldn't see the colour of her eyes, she was too far away but he could she was lithe and elegant and, more wonderfully, that she was unaware of her magnificence.

She had walked closer to him as he sat, his sandwich paused half way to his mouth. He knew this was his moment; what would he, could he say to make her stop, notice him, stay with him? He was suddenly aware if himself, how awkward he must look with his gaping mouth and his sagging sandwich. He hastily turned to his picnic box and delved within for the foil wrapper he had discarded there. He made his trembling fingers work quickly to open the foil to place his sandwich inside, he closed the foil over the flaccid bread and wilted lettuce and twisted back to feel a breath of displaced air as her green felt coat passed in a blur in front of his startled eyes. He opened his mouth, but nothing came.

Every lunch time, he returned to the bench for the next thirty years. He didn't mind cold or blistering sun. In rain, he was hastier and more awkward with his umbrella. He waited, though, for her. Just one more glimpse would have been enough.


O.K. Today was actually 20 mins but my idea wasn't completed after the ten minute mark so I went on through, which is good practise.

The inspiration came from the tumblr blog - writer's inspiration and I just hit the random generator. Today came up with a picture.