Valentine's Day

Chapter Fifteen

Okay, heads up guys. I'm going to extend the story because I had the awesome overwhelming plot that dropped into my head in the middle of class and I think that it'll make the story better-so it won't turn out to be just another chick-flick. And that goes to say that well...there will be more characters:)  

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

  The day was ironically bright and sunny; a perfect day to bits. Maybe I was turning into some cynical pessimist, but right then, I hated it. I hated how the world could go on spinning even though some people could be facing their most dire heartbreak in life. I hated how some people could be so mean, to actually toy with other people's feelings with no guilt whatsoever. Most of all, I hated how I was so sarcastic now, even with my own thoughts.

  I sighed as I trudged down the steps of the school. Beside me, Alicia wasn't saying much either, but I could hardly blame her. Her thoughts were only filled with Wes now, and she had no either desire other than to go and check on how he was. I blew at my fringe. All I wanted to do now was to go home and mope. What else could I do?

  I spotted the homeless guy with his daughter opposite the road as we passed through the gates. Every person in school knew about that guy. He was always there, they said, with his six year old daughter. I squinted a little in the bright light, to try to see how he really looked like. In truth, I had passed him a million times before, but I didn't really bother to see how he looked like. This made me feel a little guilty. Today was a horrible day for me, but what if it was a terrible day for him every day of the year? He had no home, no income, and he couldn't even provide for his daughter. I felt selfish.

  I peered harder, and was a little pleased when I could see him. He looked as though he had everything in life before, and that he had been really good looking too. His complexion was flawless and he had a good tan. His hair was greying, with silver strands through his sunny blond hair, and he didn't shave but as we walked closer, I could see smile crinkles around his eyes, as though he used to smile all the time. He had gentle eyes- I could see that, as he gave his daughter another piece of bread.

  The little girl was a beauty as well. She had black hair that reached down to her shoulders, and she smiled at her daddy sweetly as she took the bread. She snuggled closer to him and rested her head on his lap, chewing that piece of bread as if it was the tastiest thing on earth. The man stroked her hair and sighed, and I could see the regret and sadness in his eyes, as if he wanted nothing more than to turn back time and undo whatever mistake he made back then.

  We crossed the road and I could see pieces of paper in front. A small sign stood beside him, with the words, "Poems for sale" written out in bold. A pitiful amount of money stood in the tin can in front of him, and I watched him as he took up his pen and started writing on a fresh sheet of paper, something he probably spent half his money to get. I felt pity and sympathy rush over me, surging up and over my heart. I couldn't help myself and veered off to his direction instead.

  The man looked up when he saw me approach, and I saw surprise and something else flicker in his eyes. I paused for about half a second. What was that? What was that emotion I saw? I looked again, but his eyes were expressionless now. I slapped myself mentally. Don't be stupid, I told myself. What are you doing, analyzing some stranger?

   I knelt down and brushed the hair out of my face, picking up a piece. I read it through, and looked up at the man. He was definitely of some spectacular past. No one could write such amazing poetry at the roadside. The words stenciled in the paper was so exquisite, so eloquent that it could only come from someone who have seen and been through much.

  "How much is one?" I asked softly.

  The little girl sat up and smiled at me.

  I smiled back. She was intelligent for her age, I thought. She knew that I could bring happiness for her father.