The Outcast [ON HOLD]

Is this better?

Prologue

Someone once asked me, would you like to be different?

I answered it with a simple 'no'. That person asked me again, 'why', and I answered him with nothing. I was staring up at the blue sky that day, and this person would keep on asking me questions. I didn't know him that much; and he certainly didn't know anything about me. However, it was as if he had known me to be asking questions that I am mostly aware of and that Carlos wouldn't even care to question.

I met this person while I was back in England for certain reasons. I was sitting on a bench, at an ordinary local park, feeding pigeons. This person, a guy, stood a few meters away from me facing the opposite direction. He had earphones on, and was clearly enjoying the music currently playing on his iPod. I may have only seen him for just that moment, but I could tell that he wasn't local. In fact, he was an American. His hair was a mixture of golden brown and honey; and his eyes were in the shades of crystal blue, just like the ocean. He was wearing a Soul Cal California hoodie with a pair of loose joggers. He was exercising, not noticing of my staring as he warms-up and begins stretching.

People might think that if you stare at a person for longer than usual; it's no doubt that you're to be interested to that person. However, I'm not interested in him. In fact, I'm interested in no one. But it just so happens that I like to exercise, and being able to see how average people do it brings me my interest. My bag of breadcrumbs was now empty, so there was no need for me to feed the pigeons. Moreover, there was no need for me to stay since my morning routines have already been completed.

But I wasn't ready to leave just yet.

I was observing the warm-up exercises he was doing, and I was estimating how much strength he could wield with those well-built muscles and biceps under his clothes. In my mind, it could be of a good fight if he was standing up against a gang of rebels. However, if he was up against me, I doubt he could last five minutes with my smooth reflexes and years of intense training. I may be a girl, with the looks of a local innocent, but, as they always say, DON'T JUDGE A BOOK BY its COVER.

And at that moment, I was too much absorbed with the wonders running inside my mind to even notice that the guy had disappeared from where he was standing. Has he left? I questioned myself.

The answer to that was-

"It's a fine day, isn't it, Miss?"

I jump at the sound of a young man's voice. But I didn't do it because I hadn't expected it. However, it would be how a normal person would react in that kind of situation.

I smile, turning to my right. "Yes, it is."

It was him. The guy with the earphones and hoodie.

He must have seen me watching him; and while I was not paying attention, he decided to make a move. Maybe in his mind, he thinks that I was, how do you say it? 'Checking him out'.

"Are you from anywhere in the city, Miss?" he asks as he sits down on the other side of the bench.

"No," I say. "I'm from Canada."

A lie.

He looks confused. "Canada?" he asks. "You look more like an English girl." And considering something as he watches me, he then adds, "and a pretty one as well."

I smile again. "Thank you."

"And I am actually English. It's just that my parents moved to Canada a year after I was born," I confess in pretense.

"So how long have you been in Canada?"

I tilt my head to one side, making a show of myself as if I'm counting mentally."Hmm...I guess I've been living in Canada for approximately sixteen years now."