Beautiful Stranger ( a short story )

Beautiful Stranger

A stranger. That is how it all starts. The beginning of everything in this curious world must always begin with a stranger of some sort. For example, Christopher Columbus was a stranger to the Americas, after a number of years he colonized the country and it later turned into one of the most powerful countries of the world. But this stranger was quite beautiful. His stance, his aura of sorts was fascinating to me. It was as if a certain energy simply radiated off him. He caught me staring at him, his eyes squint as he scrunches his eyebrows together, small marks of crow's feet at the end of his eyes catch my attention. He must smile a lot. This seems strange to him, I found nothing strange in the simple admiration of pure life. That is what he is, pure and innocent life. He sets the newspaper he was reading down on the train table as he gets up to go to, what I guess, his private compartment. I turn to the window after he leaves, looking at the green pastures of the countryside. Smooth jazz plays over the train speakers, slightly blocking out the sound of the tracks. My attention is brought back to my table when the stranger takes a seat in front of me. I begin to feel slightly uncomfortable as he just sits there.

He puts his hands on the table, intertwining his fingers. "Do I get to know why you were staring at me?" He asks.

I lean back into the green cushions as I blow a piece of hair out of my face. "Why must you assume that I was staring at you?" I ask, crossing my arms across my chest. "I could have easily been reading the newspaper you were holding or rather...I could have been looking through your side of the window."

The man sighs as he drops his head down. "Do all your conversations go like this?" he questions with a slightly annoyed tone. I shrug my shoulders at his question as my gaze returns to the window beside me. I notice the train station in the far distance. My lips pull together in a tight line when I hear the stranger continue his attempt at a conversation. Then again, it is my fault as I had been staring at him for quite some time, therefor, he has every right to want to know as to why I had been staring. I would not be giving him an answer, I do not have one reasonable enough.

I look back at him and his rambling mouth. "What is your name?" I inquire.

He stops for a second and looks into my eyes, searching for something. His mouth opens to only let out a small sigh. I sit patiently waiting a response of some kind. He notices my slight irritation and finally responds to my simple question. "Jack" he says softly.

I nod my head. "Well Jack, pleasure to meet you" I say, sticking my hand out for him to shake, "My name is Elizabeth"

He chuckles a little as he places his hand in mine. "Elizabeth... I quite like that name" he says, not letting go of my hand.

My lips turn upwards, forming a smile at his kind words. Our eyes meet and do not move. We sit like this for a few minutes. Such a simple notion, yet there is something quite romantic about meeting someone on a train. Something had ignited in me and him as well, but I knew that it was too early for me to be feeling something for a complete stranger. However, I would not mind if I were to begin feeling something for him. He is quite beautiful. A beautiful stranger, now there is a title for a love story. Perhaps when I return home I shall author a story about this experience, I will return home with a love story of my own.

Jack finally releases my hand and clears his throat. "Do you like milk chocolate?" he asks.

I laugh a little, "Yeah" I respond, nodding my head along with my laughter.

"How much?"

I began to feel a little confused with his random questions. "More than regular milk" I say. I have this thing where I believe that if someone asks me a random question that I must give a ridiculous response. After I had responded, it was his turn to laugh. We both end up laughing together until we run out of breath. Jack ends up taking a chocolate bar out of his pocket, offering me a piece he had broken off. I gratefully accept the piece of milk chocolate that was being offered to me. He begins to ask me questions about myself, I tell him that I am currently at the age of sixteen and on my way to visit my mother in the city of Cambridge. At this he responds with his age, 19 years old, and he was only riding the train because he was bored. We end up talking for the next hour, not just about our personal lives, but theories of the world, current topics on the news, we even broke out into debate over American politics. It felt nice to have someone who made it so easy to talk. I felt as though he understands me, and I only met him but an hour ago. It may sound ridiculous, but I saw myself growing old with him. I can imagine us sitting on the porch together on a sweltering summer day while we drink ice cold lemonade. I smiled at the thought of having someone such as Jack in my chaotic life. There is something between us, an energy or warmth of sorts and I had never felt such a way. He stops talking as the conductor announces our arrival to the first station, I look up to a screen with the destinations and am relieved when I see we are not set to arrive in Cambridge for another hour.

Jack stands up from his seat as he clears his throat to speak again. "If you'll excuse me, I must go find the lavatory."

I nod as he begins to walk out of the compartment. I look out the window while I wait for his return only to feel a sense of dysphoria. Outside stands Jack, bag in hand and talking to an extremely pretty lady. He turns back towards the train, but I quickly get up from the seat and run to a different compartment to sit in. How I felt so disappointed in myself. I allowed myself to believe that someone such as him might want to be with me. Though he may not be mine, he will always be my beautiful stranger.

JACK

I walked out the compartment after telling a lie to her. I hoped that she would not see me getting off the train for I never wanted to leave her. I feel melancholic as I walk down the aisles to the baggage claim. In the mere hour that I got to know her, I felt I had known her for all the years I lived. I felt, for the first time in my life, comfortable and loved. She was the breath of fresh air I so desperately needed. Even her beauty was a breath of fresh air. I envisioned a life where she would remain by my side, a life where I would have never gotten off the train. I met with a woman my mother had sent to get me outside of the train as I thought to myself it was not too late. I may still return to Elizabeth. I turn around with the full intention of returning to her. Much to my dismay, the train begins to push forward on the tracks and the last thing I see of her is the teary eyes she had and an expression of deception. I watched as the train continued forward, taking away my chance of happiness along with it. Though it did not end well, I always knew one day I may see her again, perhaps it shall be on a train again or in the city. I did not know when this opportunity would present itself again, but I did know that I had hope of once again seeing my beautiful stranger.