The Normal Grey (Wattys 2017)

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He dives in. He can't escape her, the memories are all but a swirl and he tries to remain tied down to the ground, only if it means he'll see her face, and she'll actually see his.

But she was not beautiful.

She had the face of a doll, doughy large eyes, fair skin and cloud like white hair, but her ears were twisted and the eyes were darker than the darkest of reds and blues with a blaring cherry tint across her cheeks.

This person is filled with so many colors, that the earth should turn from all the sight she carries. In his eyes she is a miracle, not in the sense that she had been healed, but in the sense that she is rare and amazing.

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"I thought there'd be more humans here." Her words mixed together just as well as the 6 cocktails she had drank."Like that new gorillas album?" A blond girl sat next to the other one, and by other one it is inferred; the protagonist. "Haha vodka on the rocks please." The man behind the counter stared at the protagonist in disbelief.

"Don't you think there might be a more suitable drink to put on the rocks than vodka?" His eyes drifting to her male chaperone. "How bout I get you a coffee." He struggled to talk over the crowd.

"What's in a coffee?" She asked genuinely curious.

"Beans." Humoring her obviously intoxicated self, the bartender replied, knowing she was referring to what she believed to be the alcoholic contents of a beverage called "coffee". How strange.

"Holy shit. Beans?-" Not even a moment too soon, she was escorted away from the counter.

"Okay, time to go." She protested against her friend by an array of arm swings and kicks that if not dodged would have went straight to the nards."I know you must be having loads of fun, but as my older brother like duties come into play, the more and more I can't let you stay out like this." He stuttered out as she rolled her eyes, knowing full and well that his brotherly like duties have been "coming into play" all night long, constantly nagging her and pestering the cute guys away. Why?

They make way through a crowd of dancing entities. Hand in hand, they take up the task of shooing away stray stranger's arms and legs. And as the typical glass covered sphere swings over head as light reflects from the windows to the sequined dressed and glittery studded shoes, they exit the room as curiosity strikes. Does the party go on with out them?

"We're almost there, c'mon." He grunts as her weight shifts and he readjusts his grip on her waist; her arm slung over his neck. The gravel cracklings grow louder and stronger than the vibrations of the party as they get further and further away.

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"Here-" He buckled her in. "-we go."

He adjusts her seat as well and opens the window, as they take off; the midnight wind in her hair.

"Fresh." She simply stated , a weak smile played on her face. He smiled back with a quick flicker of relief and composure to his normal stressed state. Objects under pressure, if not supported by other matter can be crushed if the weight is prolonged. That is Vincent. Vincent Marlowe.

His eyes darted worriedly at her. Away from the wheel and to her puffed cheeks. "Do you need to me to pull over? I have a plastic bag in the glove compartment if you need it." She fumbled her hands into the cabinet. "Please don't puke, I just got it paid off."

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"Awwww-Jesus Ch-You missed!" His head facing the road with momentary looks to the upchuck on his gas station car rugs, like breaths of air while swimming.

"I'm so so so sososo sorry." She sputtered, wiping her mouth on her borrowed leather sleeve. She is. Sylvia Jones. A moan of cringing pain erupts from his lips. "My jacket."

"Do you want a coffee now?" He asked after he cleaned up the mess of things while parked at a dollar store with moist towelettes.

"Barnes and nobles and chill?"

"Yeah."

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707 words