FreedomToTheReaders' Exercises for Cat's Writing Bootcamp

Exercise 2 Part 1

I sat inside watching them from a small coffee shop, across the street from the bus stop, knowing they didn't see me, their angle was off. From inside I couldn't hear them, but I recognized them from around campus. It wasn't like we were friends, he was nice enough, we'd been in some of the same classes, but I hadn't ever spoken to him. And she well, she was just her. I'd only seen her around the school and almost always with him. She and I had shared no classes, I didn't even know her name.

I had thought at times that I'd like to meet her, get to know her, but she was aloof like a tiger and always in motion, while I was just shy like a kitten, frozen until the danger passed. And it would be too intimidating to meet them at the same time. I watched as he tried to get her attention, and saw her jump then lock in on his words. He shook his head a bit and she turned away, so clearly it hadn't been important. But then he reached out and caught her attention again, his hand on her arm. She turned sharply, and his hand fell free from her arm as her hands rose to flutter back and forth. This silent movie of theirs was an odd one, because she seemed so unlike the person she usually was.

It was fascinating, though I didn't know exactly what emotion she was experiencing, I couldn't read her well enough. It seemed that he didn't know what she was experiencing either, but I recognized the meaning of the warding gesture he made when I saw it. He was trying to calm her, either that or deflect but they seemed too close for violence toward each other. It might have worked ever so slightly, but it was clear that by how tightly she had tucked herself up she was still angry, or maybe frightened? Again, he tried to calm her, but she still wasn't ready to let go. She seemed upset by this point, and I realized just how much could be learned by only watching a person's body language.

As I watched, he stilled and then nodded once, his hands moving almost as if he were separating mental ideas as though he had physical boxes to place them in. She frowned and shook her head at him. His hands spread wide, and I knew he was trying to get her to clarify. It was hard to help someone through their problems if they didn't fully explain. She was obviously confused, though I knew not if it was at his gestures or herself. He held a hand up in pause, then continued to repeat his box shaped movements, but she threw up her hands interrupting him. They fluttered around before dropping into her lap, where she proceeded to bury her head in her hands, fingers digging into her hair.

With her frustration so obvious, I was conflicted between my natural tendency to avoid conflicts and a strong desire to try and help her myself, an alien feeling for me. Several emotions warred for dominance on his face, but his hand on her back was gentle, trying for comfort. She pulled her head from her hands and looked at him, a deep sadness plain on her face. It made her look vulnerable, and I liked that. I could sympathize. He again repeated calming gestures until his hands slowly dropped and relaxed in his lap. She slowly spread her hands out, as if showing him invisible things, but suddenly she threw them into her lap where they fell in fists. He spread one hand out before them, maybe showing her there was more to her and life than what she was going through? Without the verbal context, that gesture of his was hard to specify. But his other hand rose to her shoulder, another try in offering her comfort.

In a single quick motion, she stood, his hand falling from her shoulder as she rose and began walking away from him. By the way his head followed her movement it was clear he was still talking to her. She stopped, turned around three quarters of the way to look over her right shoulder at him and shook her head. His body had been contemplating standing even if his mind hadn't, and he now allowed it rise to standing. His face was pinched with emotion, his hands spread wide open and his head angled. I wasn't the only one seeing a new side to this girl. Her mask had slipped, but she was adjusting it back to place as I watched, covering her feelings with her ever present aloofness. She shook her head and turned most of her body away. For a moment, she still stayed looking and speaking over her shoulder, but as soon as the she finished she began walking again, faster this time.

His hands dropped to his sides in defeat, a frown creasing his face, but then as she continued to get further away, he raised his hands to his mouth, calling after her. I hoped his words were of concern not anger, but whatever they were, they were lost on her because she never turned back. About two minutes later the bus came, he boarded it, looking in the direction she had disappeared in the whole time.