dedicated to promethean because asdfhkgh'r; i love the way you write okay.
alice moved her slender fingers along the dusty spine of the books. she raised an eyebrow in distaste at the sight of them, "these are all classics," she muttered, her hair falling to her face. normally, the wispy ginger strands would have been covered up by a woolly hat, but today, they were tied up in a loose bun, escaping and hanging around her face. she tucked them behind one ear as she looked around. only tall shelves and lots of books surrounded her.
she sighed. alice didn't like to read. in fact, perhaps in seventeen years of her existence, she had only read one book that wasn't in the school syllabus. that also, when she was eleven. she only came here, to the town library, to pick up her little sister, minna, from her reading sessions. their constant squabbling drove the librarian crazy, and often the gray haired woman would tell them off.
today, the same gray haired woman had asked alice to read a book. the last three words, read a book, were a huge burden. she finally picked up a book without a dust jacket, the golden lettering had faded away and the dark green cover stood out. the catcher in the rye. she carelessly tossed it on the beanbag next to her and climbed down from the ladder.
the town library had been made in the early nineties, by a famous victorian man. the shelves were four times as tall as the average heighted human. the soles of her pale feet stepped down on the cold steel and she winced, rubbing them in disdain.
she walked out of the library after that, the book in one hand. the libarian nodded at her and smiled, almost as if she had won the olympics. perhaps getting alice to read a book was no less than that.
alice gave one last glance towards the round tables. minna was laughing, her teeth stuck out and her brown, round glasses were falling off her face. beside her, was oliver, her best friend. alice just shook her head, walking away.
the cold nipped at her face, making her nose and cheeks go red. she looked at the tall bulidings, most of them had clothes hung on a line, shorts, jackets, skirts, underwear, dresses. she didn't think it was a wise choice, since the weather in london had always been bipolar.
her darting steps quickened and she looked ahead of her. a boy with dark hair had a green bag hung from his shoulder and he was all covered up by a coat. a newspaper, crumpled, peeked out of the bag. alice walked past him, her shoulders softing brushing the soft fabric of is coat, and then, for what seemed like almost a millisecond, she stopped.
▌▌
vincent trudged forward, hearing the eggs clatter in the green bag. his eyes swivelled around the busy streets of london. from the pocket of his coat, he took out the change and counted it, making sure it was exactly fifteen pence, or his mother would go nuts.
"dude, you look tired," ezra commented. it was true, vincent's eyes had bags under them and they were red. he shot his best friend a weak smile. "yeah, i couldn't really sleep last night," he said. ezra winked and nudged him, "uh huh, so, who did you screw last night?" he said, playfully.
vincent punched his arm, laughing. "i'll certainly screw you up," he said. ezra stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and grinned. "so, did you see the new star wars game?" he asked. vincent rolled his eyes, "i've told you, i don't like star wars," he said. "you're pretty lame, man," ezra said, the sunlight shining on his dark brown skin.
"so, this girl i've been telling you about..." vincent's voice trailed off. ezra looked at him sharply, "you aren't bugging me with that again, vince, i've already told you, it's impossible," he said, his voice low. vincent sighed, "it possibly is," he said, although he thought otherwise.
"this is my stop," ezra said, grinning and going inside a tattoo parlour, vincent nodded, leaving ezra to do a few more unsuccessful tattoos on the poor people inside. he kept walking, looking at his scuffed trainers and then, a girl brushed past his shoulders.
he looked up and the strands of her ginger hair rendered him silent on the spot. then, for what seemed less than a second, she stopped. this was the same girl he'd pictured for endless nights. he shook his head, he couldn't just label any passer-by as the girl he'd made up. but he hadn't made her up. it was real, right?
her posture was weary, astute and straight, but somehow, she looked tired too, like she was carrying the burden of the world and she couldn't deal with it. suddenly, the once partially clear sky was full of dark gray clouds and with one clap of thunder, rain began to fall.
the pitter patter of the english rain made a steady rhythm as it fell to the ground. vincent took out a newspaper from his bag and unrolled it, holding it over his head. the ginger haired girl was soaking, her stockings and her shirt wet and her hair clinging to her face like a soft mop.
vincent walked up to her, his hands sweaty in the cold weather. the newspaper wasn't that wet, but the white sheets were now dark and damp. she turned, her blue eyes glaring at his blue ones and he gave her a sheepish smile. "d'you want to share this?" he asked, his voice lined with unmistakable nervousness. she shook her head at the foolish boy, walking away with the rain pouring down on her weary yet mysterious figure.
that was perhaps it. vincent stared at her till she was just a speck in the distance and sighed. maybe something was wrong with him. maybe he was the one that was ill.
but maybe it was her.
i don't give a shit if you don't vote, comment okay it's all about them comments. ok bye.
YOU ARE READING
alice
Romance"alice?" he whispered, his voice nervous. "yeah?" she replied absent mindedly, stirring the coffee in the dark red cup with her spoon. "i love you," he said. an uncomfortable silence filled the air. "i love you, alice," he repeated, looking at her...
