Raindrops

ii: Meeting

I watched like I did every day.

I sat at my little window seat, my knees up to my chest in a comforting manner. I had a cup of tea secured in my hands that Josh had made for me before he left for work.

People busied on by, either jogging or speed-walking down the walk. People in dress clothes and suits. I didn't even have time to study them, they walked too quickly for me to even see their faces properly.

Bored of the monotonous clicking of heels, I started to close my eyes.

What's the point in staying awake? I wondered to myself, There's nothing exciting anyway.

My eyes flickered closed, and my mouth started to drop open (unfortunately, what happens every time I fall asleep). I'm almost to dreamland, when I hear it.

Her steps.

The slightly wobbly steps. The very steps that kept me up at night.

Her steps quick, and short. But wobbly, as if not quite sure of her footing.

I snapped my eyes open, sitting up in my seat. Hopefully, I looked out the window.

But I didn't see her exit. Furrowing my eyebrows, I looked back at our front door.

Where'd she go? She can't just disappear.

I leaned even farther up the window seat, going as far as taking the blanket off of my legs, something I hadn't done in a while.

I place my feet on the floor, and raise myself up slightly.

I then hear them again. The shift of her foot as she turned around in her place, mumbling something. I fell back onto the seat, sighing quietly.

She ran up the stairs. I heard the faint noise of her stopping in the middle to catch her breath, then resuming her running.

I placed my blanket on my legs again, staring out the window.

It wasn't until ten minutes later that I heard her steps thudding down the steps. She continued, until out the door. I looked out the window and silently wished her a happy day.

I hope she has a better time than I.

Blanking out for a moment, I finally noticed that she had dropped her journal on the front steps.

What do I do? I thought, leaning up in my seat yet again (personal record), Should I go out there before she leaves? But...What would I say? I just happened to be watching you creepily while you left our apartment building when I noticed that you dropped your book? Not going to work.

I went to war with myself. My thoughts were all over the place, but it was only within a few seconds.

I decided against myself, and hopped from my seat.

My legs ached from the lack of blood flow, but I ignored them. I threw our front door open, and I jogged out of the building.

I leaned down to pick up the small journal, looking up to find her.

She was about halfway down the block. Sigh. I ran down the street, occasionally mumbling out 'excuse me' and 'sorry.' I ignored everyone's glares and the occasional yells of four-letter-words.

Finally catching up to her, I placed a hand on her shoulder. Frightened by the sudden contact, she spun around. She opened her mouth (probably to tell me off), and I held up the journal.

"Where'd you get that?" she asked. Her hand outstretched, taking the book from my hand.

I would've responded immediately. With the truth. That I was looking outside when I noticed her journal on the ground. I would've told her that it had fallen out of her bag, and I happened to see it.

I would've told her everything. But the thing is...

I hadn't run in a year. Barely even jogged. I was outrageously out of breath, making me lean down to put my hands on my knees and stick my finger up at her, as if saying 'Hold on one moment.'

She peered down at me, placing her hand on my shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

I looked up at her.

This was the first time I had ever properly seen her face. Sure I had seen it a couple times, when she'd be talking to someone or simply looking in my direction. She was usually looking the opposite direction, off in her own life.

Her grey eyes darted toward me in concern, her eyebrows drawn together. Her brown hair curled around her shoulders in a frizzy mess. Her nose turned up into a cute little dollop in the center of her face. Freckles absolutely covered her face, and continued under jacket. From what I could tell, she didn't have a stitch of makeup on, which I was glad. For if she did, they would cover her freckles completely. Her lips were lightly chapped, nose red from the nippy wind.

"I-I'm fine, thank you," I stuttered out to her, leaning up slowly. It was then that I realized just how tall she was. Last time I checked (which was over a year ago) I was 6'2. She was only a few inches shorter than me, around 5'10.

She peered up at me, then looked down at my wonderful attire.

"Aww, you didn't have to dress up for me," she added with a smile, looking back up into my eyes.

I followed her gaze to my outfit, and cringed. I had checkered pyjamas, and a plain white shirt. I was barefoot, which was very different to the sea of high heels and dress shoes. Not until I stared down at my outfit did I realize just how cold it was. My arms snaked up my forearms, rubbing them for warmth.

"I wasn't exactly planning on going out of the house," which was definitely the truth. I mean, I hadn't left the house in a year. I didn't expect anything else from me today.

"Oh, well. I'm glad you did," she smiled again, throwing up her journal for a moment. "It was nice meeting you, uh..." She paused, waiting for a name.

"Oliver."

"Oliver! It was nice meeting you!" She smiled, turning on her heel and walking down the street. She left me in the dust.

"Yeah, nice to meet you," I mumbled, giving a half-hearted wave to her retracting body.

I turned on my bare foot, and walked slowly down the walk. I reached the door to our building, and I touched the handle before looking back up at the direction she went.

I never caught her name.

I'm such an idiot.