Bridges

Times Square NYC

Life never fully prepares you for what happens next. I never expected I'd be left at the steps of a police station at 3 months old, or be discarded as a weirdo by the rest of the foster kids at the home, or be adopted by two doctors with a genius for a daughter- who, by the way, is very aware she is better than everyone and never lets you forget it- or be dumped at prom, or get accepted into Columbia, or, somehow, end up in the middle of Times Square, caught in the stare of a handsome stranger with a guitar strapped across his chest.

There was nothing extraordinary about him; he was around 6 feet tall with dark brown hair and large rimmed glasses, making his eyes seem 3x the size they actually were. He was wearing a loose black t-shirt and black ripped jeans that hung a little too low on his waist. He wasn't much, but the way he looked at me made me feel like we no longer stood in the middle of a far-too-crowded commercial intersection in Midtown Manhattan, but in an empty, dark room with light emitting from each other. Instinctively, I walked over to the stranger as he looked at my direction. He didn't seem to be looking at my physical self, but straight into my soul, making me feel vulnerable in his gaze.

The closer I got to him, the clearer his features became; he had a light stubble and a very chiseled jaw line. His hazel eyes seemed as if they'd seen centuries worth of pain and suffering, his arms tainted with faint bruises and scars from an obviously torturous past. His lips were chapped and faded, their insides containing small traces of red. He extended his hand out for me to shake and said, "Hi, I'm Todd...nice to meet you." His calloused fingers rubbed against the palm of my hand, though the rest of his hand was surprisingly soft. Now, I'm not the kind to remain speechless, but this guy was doing strange things to my being. I felt as if I was stood before someone I'd known my entire life, yet I'd never seen this guy before. I felt my knees buckle and my throat tighten as I tried to introduce myself to him.

"My name is...uh Andrew." I said, forcing my brain to remember my name. I wasn't sure why I was so nervous, why I felt like my whole life was leading up to this very moment.

"So Andy, doesn't look like you're from around here. What's your story?" Todd asked.

What's my story? No one's ever been interested in what I had to say, much less what my story was.

"That's a bit of a long story; too intimate of a conversation to have on a busy sidewalk." I answered, hoping he's insist in getting to know me.

"Well then, would it be more comfortable to have this conversation over coffee?" he asked, already bending down to place his guitar in the case. He grabbed the several dollar bills and coins and stuffed them in his pockets. I looked over to his wavy brown hair, then down to his neck and back where I saw traces of ink, impossible to see through his black t-shirt.

He stood back up, swinging his guitar case strap over his shoulder. "Let's go get Starbuck's, I'm feeling extravagant today."

He began to walk away, and I felt myself follow him. I wasn't completely aware of what I was doing or why I was doing it, but it felt right.

a/n should i even post anymore? is anyone reading? is this good? i guess that's up to y'all to decide...