Jess is finally going! That New Zealand holiday is at its dawn, and all she can think of is landscapes, walks and adventures. But what she does not expect to find, is what is waiting around the corner - someone.
Someone who will turn her holiday up...
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There was a trail of dampness on the grey carpet.
A heap of sodden clothes lay in a basket beside the door, threatening to spill over and inflict even further damage on the poor carpet. Around the room, posters of football players, bands and hiking trails, and family photos, clung to the walls; lasting memories amidst the ever-changing nature of the world they belonged to.
The room was cosy, with its small closet, bed, desk and bookshelf. It did not have that overstuffed, fussy feeling that some places manage to, but it was also had an undeniably 'lived in' look, with pens, socks and other odd and ends scattered across the (really very suffering) carpet, and over the desk. It was cosy.
Outside the large window beside the bed, the sun had set, and all was still. Even the boy who lay, in his jeans and t-shirt, on the bed, was still. The bedding and pillows were arranged around him, completely unruffled, as his chest rose and fell steadily. Noises came from downstairs - clanging of pans, and loud voices - but the boy did not flinch. He could have been sleeping, but his eyes were open.
James had not moved from that position for hours. He had gotten home from the stream just as the rain had begun to pour again, and, after rushing to get out of his wet, freezing clothes, he had sunk onto the bed. Where he had stayed.
His eyes now strayed from the warm glow of the streetlight outside, to the pile of clothes he had chucked into the basket. A pale blue jacket lay on the top of the pile, the least wet of all the clothes... but that was not all that made it stand out.
James had not thought about returning it. Everything in that moment beside the stream had happened in some sort of strange time loop - one of a different universe. It had gone so slowly; second by second ticking dodgedly, painstakingly by on his waterlogged watch.
But then it had been over, as though it had never happened, and all James could do was play it over and over in his head. He literally was incapable, it seemed, of doing anything else.
He had suddenly, he realised, become some ridiculous daydream wanderer, and though he did not try very hard to break free from them, he found himself trapped in dreams of a world that made it possible for him to stroll, untroubled, by the stream. To go there, with the promise of seeing her again.
Perhaps he should not have left so quickly. He certainly had not wanted to. The conviction that he had to save himself - to forget her - was becoming a weaker excuse by the second, but what choice was there, but to eventually leave? The situation was unsavable.
Besides, Jess suggested it. He thought to himself.
She had been the one to bring up needing to walk Obi. She clearly had not wanted to stay - it had been the second time she had tried to leave... She obviously did not want to have anything more to do with him.
But that's great. Saves me the trouble of trying to...
James sighed. The room began to slip in and out of focus. How long was he going to keep up this-
