The Corner Shop

The mysterious girl

Jeremy's pov:

I, Jeremy Harewood, leaned against the window of the corner shop, my breath fogging the glass as I gazed out into the streets of Cambridge. The early autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of wet leaves and freshly brewed coffee from inside the shop. The hustle and bustle of the world outside moved at its usual pace—cars honked in the distance, bicycles whizzed past on the narrow streets, and a group of children chased each other with squeals of delight that echoed against the old brick buildings. Yet, amidst this familiar scene, my thoughts were far away, anchored to one single, elusive person—her.

The girl whose name I didn't even know.

It had been a day since that brief, fateful encounter outside this very shop. Twenty-four hours had come and gone, each hour a torturous loop of replaying that moment, wondering what could have been if I had just acted differently. I remember seeing her approach—this girl with her long, chestnut hair and eyes that sparkled with an innocence and curiosity I couldn't look away from. She had walked toward me, her stride filled with purpose, though there was a slight nervousness in her demeanor. It was subtle, the kind of thing you pick up on if you're paying close attention. And I had been. More than I cared to admit.

But as she came closer, something in me faltered. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was insecurity—whatever it was, I had let the moment slip through my fingers. I stood there like an idiot, watching her pass by, my courage crumbling in the space between us. I had wanted to say something, to ask her name, to start a conversation, but the words got stuck in my throat. And then, just like that, she was gone, swallowed up by the city, leaving me with nothing but regret.

Now, as I leaned against the window, staring blankly at the world outside, I couldn't stop the self-criticism that swirled in my mind. Why had I hesitated? Why hadn't I just spoken up? Every fiber of me wanted to turn back time, to rewrite that moment, to grab hold of the opportunity I had so foolishly let go. I hated feeling this way—like I'd missed out on something that could've been important, maybe even life-changing. There was something about her, something I couldn't quite place, but I knew I needed to see her again.

AND then, just as I was about to sink deeper into my thoughts, a voice broke through my reverie. A voice I would recognize anywhere.

"Hello... what's your name?"

I snapped out of my daze and turned to the source of the voice, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest. There she was. Standing just outside the shop, her figure outlined against the fading light of the day, the same girl who had captured my attention only a day before. Her eyes met mine, and in that moment, I felt a strange mixture of disbelief and exhilaration. It was as if the universe had handed me a second chance, an opportunity I dared not squander again.

"Jeremy Harewood," I blurted out, my voice a little too loud, betraying my surprise. I could feel the heat rising to my face, a blush creeping up my neck. I quickly tried to regain my composure, flashing a smile that I hoped didn't seem as awkward as it felt. "I... I didn't expect to see you again," I added, attempting to sound more confident than I felt. I was elated, but there was still that lingering anxiety of not wanting to mess this up.