Letter to a Stranger
So I thought I'd contribute a little fiction today on this blog. The photo has nothing to do with the story, but
can be so photogenic sometimes, I had to share. Anyways, Happy Friday!
***
I sat alone in a rustic sort of restaurant that reminded me of a farmhouse. The drinks were served out of broken glass cups, the wooden tables were covered by brown paper and the large windows towered over me reaching for the ceiling. Otis Redding came on over the speakers and the sunlight flooded in heating everything it touched. I was happy there in that moment of solitude. And then my eyes happened to catch the most handsome smile I've ever seen.
There are words written for you in the pages of my journal. Words that take life at every stroke of my pen at every curve and line of every letter. Words that string together to become more than a random mash of characters. They describe the light in your eyes, the kind that burns brighter than the sun ever could because you were meant to shine, meant to be noticed. They illustrate the dreams you painted like a masterpiece that couldn't be born from any old soul - the kind that only a dreamer could fathom and an artist could make come alive. They capture the subtle accent of yours that no one could catch when you spoke the lyrics to my new favorite song.
I always thought you were much more than you perceived to be. Your young, lionheart spirit went after every aspiration you dreamed up. No one would ever question whether ambition coursed through your bloodstream; they just knew. And I knew. I wanted nothing more than to be like this sunlight warming my skin to warm your heart, and like this Redding song wafting by to be the music you turn up when you're muddled. To be someone you could believe in when there wasn't anything else to believe... someone who mattered when nothing else did.
But, I'm stealing away the hope that I could ever feel your fingertips tracing the curves of my vertebrae or see the glint in your eyes when I light up having gotten your attention. All of the moments that I loved to never materialize or the treasures you would've loved that I had to share were blown away like dust in the wind to somewhere we've all now forgotten.
And there you were, sitting across from me at a table in this farmhouse restaurant with your brilliant smile. Never having noticed me, you took your last sip and sighed your last sigh I would ever hear as you made your way to the exit. Each step you took away from me my heart beat louder as if calling for you because my lips couldn't utter the words.
And so, there are words for you scribbled in the pages of my journal. With dots and crosses and looping letters of lines and verses I wish you could read back to me.
***
I hope you enjoyed this
fictional tale on this lovely Friday. Have a wonderful weekend!