Column 3- secondary character's point of view (The Final Story choice)
It was as if it was the first time i ever opened my eyes. Like the darkness faded in an instant. Who knew this single entity could be so compelling. My first view of her was when I entered the coffee shop. She had auburn hair. I couldn't see her face, she was staring out the window in a daze. you could tell that she was closed off because her legs were curled up close to her chest. It only made me want to talk to her more. I ordered my usual, anxiously anticipating its arrival, you can never tell when a person will get up and leave. I quickly grabbed my coffee and briskly walked over to where she was sitting. I sat in the seat opposite her, sinking deep into the cushions. I felt encapsulated in the chair, and it was an inescapable feeling. I tried to not think about it as i adjusted myself. I could feel her gaze upon me. Even though my mind is yearning to speak to her, my mouth stops me and i pick up a magazine instead. The main article concerns itself with war. I can still feel her gaze. I flip to the first section of photographs and i can feel the passion flowing from every page, from every shot. My silent awe is broken by a soft but stern voice. Her gaze is still on me as I look up. “Do you like those?”
I look up and then back down, she must be talking about the photos. I quickly reply, “yes, i really do, the feeling that exudes from these photos really takes me aback.”
“Do they now?”
“I’ve never been this amazed by a simple photo before, this,” i pause and look down at the magazine for the photographer, “E. Marcus character really knows what they are doing”
“Well thanks,” she murmured. “What’s your name?”
For a second I am confused. Why should she be thanking me? I brush it off, yet the question nudges a me from the back of my mind. “My name is Viktor.”
“I’m Eloise, Eloise Marcus.”
The shock hit me full force, the dots connected so easily. I was sitting in the midst of a photographic genius. So that’s why she thanked me? Such a puzzling thing for someone to do.
“Are you okay?”
I realized i had been gaping at her for quite a bit of time, I hope she’s not bothered by that.
“Don’t worry,” her phone starts buzzing on the table. “It happens.” It was if she read my mind. “Can you hold on for a minute?” She picked up her phone. I could hear bits and pieces of her conversation, but not enough to understand the entire meaning. Something about travel or whatnot. She turned back to me once she was finished and we continued our conversation. Since she was with me, I started questioning her all about her career. Even though it our conversations lasted for hours, it felt like only a few mere moments. After that, I started coming to the coffee shop the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that one. Each day I would enter the coffee shop, hoping she was there, and she was. Then one day, I remember because it had the most beautiful weather (it was overcast with the sun peeking out from the cracks), she did not arrive. I was just about to give up on waiting, when the barista who had returned to her shift stopped me on my way out and handed me a letter.
It read,
“Vicktor,
I know you must be wondering where I am at the moment, and I’m very sorry to tell you that I will be gone for the upcoming year. If I had the courage, I would have told you in person, but contradictory to my behavior, I am the biggest coward of all. I took advantage of your kindness and admiration, and unknowingly let you in. I am very stiff when it comes to relationships, so I used you for my experiment on myself. Im so sorry, I hope we can meet again when I come back.
Sincerely,
E.M.”