Eleanor( a short story)

5

So he walked home. Staring at the stars, they reminded him of Eleanor, thinking about how to tell her, how he felt, what he wanted. He thought about how to tell her, without hurting her. But love doesn't work that way.

And so, he pulled out the serviette from his pocket, sat down against a wall, and began writing more.

On the other side of town, Eleanor was lying in her bed. Thinking of Harry. She found it complicated to love him, now that she knew his whole background. But she was determined to break that barrier, to find a comfortable space, in which she could love him.

She didn't sleep that night. But she contemplated calling Harry to find out how he was doing, what he was thinking, what he was feeling. But she felt it would be too soon and so she waited, both of them did. And one might say, they waited too long. For as days and weeks passed, Harry began to lose patience, waiting for Eleanor, and she did too.

That Friday evening, she decided to go for a walk, her objective: to find Harry and talk to him, to settle things once and for all. But alas she didn't find him though he found her, but didn't speak, didn't call her name, he stayed quiet lest he poured out his emotions into the cup that was her heart.

See, it's hard to love someone when the both of you are so different. But the sheer determination to win that special person's heart keeps you going. And for this reason, and this reason only, Harry and Eleanor continued to pursue each other. For love.

Harry distanced himself from her for a while. To clear his mind, focus on his job, make some money, and assemble his feelings into a jigsaw that he would soon give Eleanor. And because Eleanor couldn't find Harry, she too did the same. And like that, they didn't see each other for a month.