Tall Tales

- 09 -

N I N E

..... ....

About Time

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It's been a long time.

A long, long time since I last saw him. Winter ice thaws, spring blossoms wither, summer heat fades, autumn leaves fall out... time goes on. Things change but one thing stays the same: the void he left since his abrupt absence.

Yet now, there he is. Ah, he's always looked his best in a suit and tie. Still, somehow he looks better. Is it the hair, or the wayfarer? No, it's got to be that confidence he exudes.

Me? Ugh, I still wriggle my pencil skirt down when I'm certain no eyes are upon me. I still clench whatever's in my hold when I'm anxious. I still rub the back of my head when I'm embarrassed. I guess you could say that I haven't changed one bit.

I can't believe it, though. We finally meet again. As potential partners, but this time, in business.

I know I need not to worry, for the past is in the past. But the tension is still present, filling the crevasse his absence had left, making me all jittery and antsy for no major reason whatsoever.

Good gracious, I'm lying if I say that I'm not dreading break time – right now.

As a person, I'm easily bored. And when boredom reigns over me, I like to guess what people are feeling and thinking. I'm wrong most of the time, but isn't that what most people do as well? Assuming. Guessing. Just a few shades separate those two, really.

What I didn't know was that he paid attention to that little habit of mine. What took me by surprise was the words that broke the silence, the words that came out of his mouth.

"Well," he takes up the empty seat on the bench right next to me, "What a twist of fate, huh?"

I gave him a glance and turned away to resume my gaze at the nothingness ahead of me. "I didn't take you as a Swiftie," I shrug and sag against the wooden bench. It's a pretty park. Small and green, I'm lucky my office is generous enough to provide all these.

"Don't let anyone know my secret," there's a tinge of worry in his voice that made me whip my head – only to see him grinning

I curled my lips. "Don't worry, I don't judge," I give his shoulder a side bump. A small laugh escaped his lips, and I chime in. It lasts for a good five seconds before the weight of unease sinks back in.

"So we meet again."

"So we meet again." I repeat after him.

It's awkward. Really really awkward, I have to tell you. But I'm also so edgy. I'm this unboiled egg balancing on the point of a needle. All it takes is just one blow. One blow, and I'll... fall. I wonder what kind of surface awaits me shall I fall.

"You..." he trails off. Hmph, now that's new. The guy I knew was never uncertain.

"I what?"

"You took it well," he turns his head at me. Those amber eyes, once my weakness, my Achilles heel, don't they know that my own brown eyes are not a mine?

I'm proud to say that I kept my face straight when I answered, "Taking it well doesn't mean that I'm handling it well, Arland." I go back to sipping my lychee tea then. I mean, sorry I'm not sorry but I'd like to finish my drink before all the ice melts, you know?

He cocks his head at my answer. I know, because even if I'm staring at my cup, I make sure that he's within my peripheral view.

"Well, I'll leave you to your drink then," he stands up. My heart jolts up along. Why, I don't know. We all know that the cardiac muscles work involuntarily, so really, it's not me.

"Okay." I blurt an immediate answer. Gosh, I'm so awkward.

"See you back upstairs, Fiore," he waves a little at me. Being the polite girl that I am, I wave back.

That's when I realized that the little egg had fallen already. The surface that she dreaded turned out to be hot water. She was plunged and submerged, boiled and cooked, until she was hard and tough. Until another fall wouldn't make her rupture and crumble away.

And my dearest Fiore, it's about time that you let go. That, that is exactly why you two can't be. Awkwardness overload.

That's what Gael would say, anyways. Psh, I know you all know what he is to me. ❤️

A/N: Trying first person POV and... decided that I'd very much prefer third person POV. This was recently made (last month) and the title still might be changed later on (cause it's crappy and all)~ see you on 18th!

Btw, when I mentioned Machiavelli is fate's last name, I'm referring to 'Machiavellian' – go look it up! 😉

Post Scriptum

The name Arland means a pledge, Fiore means flower; blossom, and Gael means jovial. Arland was Fiore's past, the commitment she never took, but Fiore herself had not bloomed – referring to her as a flower. And in the end, she found her joy in Gael. You know, long story short heehee

Love eternally,
Caera Keane