Enchantè

His Description of Her

The publication house was busy, as usual. There comes in great speed, Bryle. Dodging every messy tables with scattered papers, probably drafts, on his way to the chief editor.

"Finally," his boss exclaimed as he entered his boss' office. "What took you so long?"

Then Bryle remembered the girl named Vienne, her face's details; that long messy french braid; the way she read her book with amazement; everything beautiful about her.

"Was it beautiful?" the chief added.

"Yeah," absentmindedly he agreed. "I-i mean the sunset."

His boss chuckled. "Moving forward," he said regaining his consciousness. "Your opinion is great, we'll be publishing that. But I remind you that there might be a huge chance of endangering your life with that powerful truths that you have written, are you sure you don't want a pseudonym?"

"No, sir." He then smiled proudly. "There's nothing to be afraid of, knowing that it is the truth. Either way, it's not my fault that they got shot by my words. It's their problem, not mine."

***

After the approval of the chief editor, he went to a small café, just by the block, where almost all of the employees are familiar with. As he entered a guy near the window rose from his sit and greeted him.

"How was your article, Bryle?" he asked and walked with Bryle back to his seat.

"I'll be dying sooner or later," he kidded. "Sean, he's gonna publish it."

Bryle looked out the window remembering what happen this afternoon. "May I have the dark coffee please?" he asked as a waiter walked by. "How's today at the publication house?"

"Same old papers on the same old places," he boringly said then munched bread hard. "Dark coffee, eh?" he thought out loud as he heard Bryle's order. "Found something interesting? Was it about that store near Mr. Graham's place? Or you probably saw-?"

"A girl."

"Is she famous? Daughter of the Mayor, probably?" Sean still questioned but Bryle didn't answer. "She ain't?"

Bryle answered: "I don't know, probably yes or no. She seem simple."

"You don't mean a girl, but a woman," he teased. "Finally a woman in your life."

"I only know her name, Sean. We just watched the sunset together, that's all." Upon saying those, he recalled the falling strands of her dark brown hair; the way she read Tolkein's book; the way she looked at the sunsetting; the way she said 'Vienne' before they left and parted ways.

"Uhuh, you're thinking of her now. So you're gonna write something about her then?"

"Yeah, I sure hope to meet her again."

***

In Bryle's house, he sat on his desk. The desk where he writes all those striking articles. But this, he'll be probably writing something different.

"Dark brown hair, flowing from her beautiful face..." he thought. "No, too simple. Simple...right!"

And with rush, he created a short narrative of her:

There she was, wearing that unusual face for hers. It was as if she was captured by the words the book was pouring on her. Her face that tells exactly what the book meant. The fear, the excitement.

He never knew her, but by the way she moved-he knew her already. From his fast pace, he slowed down and walked to her.

In that brief moment, they watched the sunset together. After that he knew her more than ever. She was Vienne, his Vienne.
By B. S. Richards