Manhattan

03.

AIDAN SHOULDERED HIS backpack, adjusting the camera strap around his neck, and threw away the muffin wrapper which had held the fresh, hot blueberry muffin his mom had baked for breakfast. He started walking down the street, towards the community center, where he had his Sunday photography classes, and stopped suddenly when he saw her.

The girl he'd seen yesterday. He recognized her immediately by her golden curls. She was standing in front of an old man, who was seated on the ground, playing a guitar. A few other people stood around him, some dropping coins into his open guitar case. Aidan looked at his watch. He had fifteen minutes to get to class. Figuring he could spare a few seconds, Aidan crossed the street, and joined the group of people gathered around the man.

The man's eyes were closed, his fingers frail, yet graceful as he strummed the guitar. The music that flowed from it was lovely and sweet, enveloping Aidan like a warm blanket and making him forget momentarily about the cold winter air around him.

He let the music take him away. As soon as the man finished playing, Aidan felt as if a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on his head and he had to blink a few times to get his bearings.

The small crowd around the man began to scatter after dropping money into his guitar case. Aidan reached into his own pocket and dropped a few bills in there just as the girl started to do the same. His hand brushed her's accidentally and Aidan felt a sudden jolt go through him. Startled, he pulled his hand back and looked away when the girl's eyes flickered to him curiously.

"Thank you," the man with the guitar said, grasping Aidan's hands in his frail ones, doing the same to the girl. "I am grateful for your kindness."

Aidan watched as the man hobbled away, guitar in tow, feeling a warm glow in his chest that seeped into his veins and made him feel as if he were filled with honey. He was startled when the girl, who he hadn't realized was still there, spoke.

"That was beautiful, wasn't it?" she asked him, her voice hushed.

Her voice was melodic in his ears. He turned to her. "Yeah," he agreed. "It was pretty great."

He didn't know why, but all of a sudden he found himself studying her as he would a painting, taking in the details of her face, noticing how a spray of freckles spread across the bridge of her nose. He watched as she smiled, a dimple forming in her left cheek.

"You know," she said suddenly, her smile morphing into a full blown grin, startling Aidan from his trance. "You have a camera right there. If you wanted to stare, you should just take a picture. It lasts longer."

"Oh, um, I wasn't... I mean, I was just," he stuttered and blushed, giving her a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

Her knowing smile made him blush even more. She rocked back on her heels. "So," she started. "Why do you have a camera?"

Aidan looked down at his camera. "Hmm? Oh, this? Well, I enjoy photography," he said, and looked down at his watch. "Speaking of which, I have a photography class to get to right now."

"Oh, right," she nodded pleasantly. She held out her hand for him to shake. "Nice meeting you..."

"Aidan," he replied, and took her hand in his own. He was taken aback by how their hands fit perfectly together.

She seemed not to notice as she hummed. "Aidan," she said, testing out his name. Aidan decided he quite liked the way it rolled off her tongue. "Nice to meet you. I'm Leah."

They shook hands. "Well," he said. "See you around, Leah."

"You too, Aidan," she replied with a grin. Aidan began walking away, but not before turning around, lifting up his camera, and snapping a picture of her. He laughed at her shocked face, and gave her a grin and a wink as he crossed the road and ran to class.