Eleanor( a short story)

1

Harry sat there, staring into the open air. His nose picking up the fresh scent of the newly bloomed flowers of spring. He sat there and thought. He thought about everything. With the exception of a job, for he didn't have one.

Hours passed before he got distracted. A lady passed by, her eyes green like emerald, her hair as brown as oak and as smooth as silk. It had never occurred to him that falling in love was this easy. But of course he knew that love at first sight didn't exist and so he thought. Did he really love her? And that question was what formed most of his sleepless night.

Of course he couldn't have been in love with her. For she was a rose and he was a weed. There was no possible way that the two of them, so different in their likeness could ever fall in love. He knew that falling in love was inevitable and so was falling out of it. But he still wanted to ( fall in love). For loving someone is like holding water in your palms. It's good when it lasts, but eventually it goes.

And so Harry woke up the next morning- having not slept much- and headed to the same spot where he saw the fine lady the day before. Perhaps, to get to know her better.

And like clockwork, she walked past. He wanted to approached her. But he came to the sudden realisation that his appearance ( his clothing not his face) and his breath were both appalling. And that approaching her in that state would be a form of total embarrassment.

So he set off, to get a job, a home, to move up Maslow's hierarchy of needs. All this, he would do for love, all this for one lady, who he didn't even know. But love takes control once it's got its grip on us and we cannot restrain ourselves from doing what it demands. So maybe Harry really was in love.