Mismatched Socks

Sophia - Chapter 1: Vincent Van Gogh

The first thing I noticed about her were her mismatched socks and her lack of fashion that make her who she is. At first, I thought she couldn't find the other sock that matched the first, or that she was in a hurry that morning and didn't have any time to find the right socks. Oh no, that was not it.

She mismatched her socks on purpose. Every day since I noticed her, I only saw the different socks. Maybe she thinks it brings good luck or has some sentimental reason for it. I wanted to ask her yesterday, but I was too shy. Maybe it would be weird for me to notice some stranger's socks?

Together with her mismatched socks, her blonde curly hair and lack of fashion, she walks in the library. She looks in my direction and I look down at my book immediately. Did she see me? I hope not. I write down some things for research and close the book.

I put my books and pencil case in my backpack. I take the heavy book about the French Revolution and walk to the shelve where it belongs. I put it back and read the titles of the other books, maybe there is something interesting.

'Uhm, excuse me? Could you help me please?' And there she stands. Her curls bouncing while she nervously laughs, her woollen sweater seams very comfy, her jeans are a little bit too short, her colourful socks and her white trainers.

She frowns. 'Uhm, if you can't, you can just say so', she says in an accent that is not British. 'I'm sorry, yes I can help you', I say flustered and look away. My cheeks are definitely turned red. 'Great! I cannot find the book about Vincent van Gogh. It should be somewhere between the art and the history section, but I simply cannot find it.'       

I walk with her to the shelve where it should be on, but the book is nowhere to be found. 'Oh, well, then someone else will have it', she shrugs. 'We could ask the librarian who has it?' I suggest.

'No, it is fine, I'll come back tomorrow. Thank you for helping me', she turns to leave.

'Wait!' That was a little too loud.

'Yes?' She raises her eyebrow.

'What's your name?'

'Renée. Yours?'

'Sophia.'

'Nice to meet you.'

She leaves the library. 'Renée', I repeat in a whisper with a soft smile. Well, I am sure of one thing, she is not from England or anywhere from the UK. And the way she pronounced Vincent van Gogh. Maybe she's form Germany, it would also explain her accent. When I return to my dorm, my roommate Elise is lying on her bed.

'Everything all right?' I ask.

'I am exhausted', she says. 'And I can't believe this year is only one month in', she continues.

'I understand you completely.' I smile big.

'What are you smiling about?' Elise tilts her head.

'I'm not smiling.' I shyly look away.

'You totally are.' There is a silence while she looks at me, questioning.

'Her name is Renée', I exclaim.

'OMG did you finally talked to her?!' Elise is surprised and stands to hug me.

'Well, she talked to me actually.'

'What did she say?! Did she ask you out?'

'No, she couldn't find a book and I helped her search for it.'

'And?' Elise asks.

'We couldn't find it.'

'That's it?'