The cut that always bleeds - materialrolls

part 7

It was a warm morning that day. The sun shone down on the roads of the Silversprings area as cars occasionally drove by. There was a slight wind in the air and the leaves of magical autumn trees danced to their own music.

Randy was sitting outside the Museum stairs, the large building had countless windows on its front and wondrous tall pillars stood welcomingly on either side of the main door. There were stairs all across the face of the National Silversprings Museum, and on one of these steps sat Randy.

Her head as always was looking into a book as she read through what she had just written down. She often liked to sit out on the same steps after school in the delightful warmth of the day, writing down a book she had been working on for the past few months. Her pen had tirelessly been scribbling on the steady paper as the words flowed from her fingers. You might say, why not write a novel under a quiet tree or an empty library? Well, Randy always enjoyed the idea of sitting in a public place as she observed common human behaviour, seeing people come in and out of the museum with bright smiles on their faces. Old ladies used to beam at her as they walked inside with their grand children and excited college professors used to run in with iced tea in one hand and their school bag in the other.

Though this day was slightly different than most. She could hardly focus on what she was writing or as a matter of fact, even on what she was supposed to write. There was a constant humming sound coming from next to her, she hadn't turned to look who it was but she scrunched her nose and sighed with a roll of her eyes. She didn't mind the distant chatter of the mumbling people; however, this made her loose her patience to a certain point.

'Could you stop that godforsaken humming?,' Randy shot at the boy sitting next to her.

The boy looked in her direction, confused as to why anybody would mind ordinary humming. His black hair swayed with the light breeze and the soft autumn light gleamed in his emerald eyes.

'Well, what if I played a song you liked?,' he replied apologetically, expecting her to give him a less sour reply.

'Well, what if I told you I had no time for idle boys looking to impress someone who is clearly not interested and busy at the moment?'

The boy couldn't help but laugh.

'Are you laughing at me?,' Randy asked passive aggressively. She was surprised he laughed at her rancid remark; most people would take that as a sign to leave.

'As a matter of fact, I was. I'll give it to you; you sure do know how to scare someone away.'

She shifted awkwardly where she was sitting and her annoyance increased every passing minute. All she wanted to do was to continue her murder mystery and maybe even slap this nuisance across the face.

'Has anyone ever told you how funny you look when you're mad?,' he smiled.

She ignored him.

He turned to look at the falling leaves gliding about and when the awkwardness thickened, he pulled out a diary and started scribbling in it, or rather stabbing the pages.

Randy wanted to get up and yell at him, but that would mean breaking the silence and she would rather stab herself with his fancy fountain pen than do that. Wait. She looked at his fountain pen again and realized it was carved with multiple poetic verses she recognized from some of her favorite pieces.

'Oh, you like my pen, huh? She really is a beauty.'

She quickly looked away, angry with herself for getting caught staring at his wretched pen.

'Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
Alone and palely loitering; - ,' recited the boy off a carving in his pen ever so gracefully before he was cut off.