the lonelier version of you

I walked down the cold Chicago street alone. people passed beside me at their own speedy paces to get out of the unusually cold October air. It felt like December more than October.

It was about 7pm and the sky was dark and full of looming clouds. I entered Willis tower and headed to the elevator and went up to floor 103. I always went up to the sky box on bad days, a lot of people were terrified of it but I guess I just got use to it due to all the bad days I have which are mostly self brought on.

I waited for the family of obvious tourists to step out before I got in and just stared out into the Chicago skyline.

"You're from here." Said a man's voice from beside me. Without looking at him I had guessed he had stepped into the box with me.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"The way you stepped in here was as if you come here a lot, you weren't even scared.

"And you?" I said now glancing at the man with light brown hair and black rimmed glasses dressed I'm mostly black with a red scarf.

"I grew up here. How long have you lived here? Glenview is my home town." He said.

"I've lived in Chicago my whole life." I said noticing through the glass of the sky box that it was snowing chunky snowflakes coming down in a white sheet.

I stepped out of the box and he followed.

"I like to come here to think, I write music and stuff so it helps. Why do you come here?" He asked innocently. This guy seems like such a lame hipster right now.

"What if I don't have a reason?" I said.

"Well your obviously not a tourist, and it seems like you would come here often and everyone that does that always has a reason." He said.

"Its like a bad day thing." I said and began to walk towards the elevator and so did he.

"Oh, sorry. I really don't mean to be so intrusive or anything, its just kind of cool to know strangers story's sometimes." He said. I stepped in the elevator and so did he. I pushed the first floor button and he looked at the floor.

"Oh yeah?" I said dryly. "What's yours."

"Its uninteresting or unbelieve able for that matter." He let out sort of a fake chuckle.

"Uninteresting and unbelievable should never go in the same sentence together, they're like antonyms." I said.

"Guess my story." He said the elevator opened and we stood in the lobby.

"Well from what you said earlier you came from Glenview, and you write music, so let's see.... you moved to Chicago to help further your Indy hipster music career like every other aspiring hipster musician from around the Illinois area does, but for now you just work in a coffee shop...or record store or something." I said. I honestly thought it would piss him off until I herd a genuine laugh coming from him which surprised me.

"No. I'm just visiting Chicago but I did use to work in a record store around here. Do I really come off as a hipster?" He asked with a smirk.

"A little. What about me? Do you want to try to guess mine?" I asked. He looked at me for a moment.

"Well that's going to be tough.. you said you grew up here. Are you a model or something?" He asked making me roll my eyes.

"I honestly hope your not trying to hit on me or anything. But no, nothing like that." I said. His eyebrows raised in surprised.

"First I'm a hipster, now I'm a hipster-douche bag?" He laughed. "I swear I'm not hitting on you Miss, it was honestly just a dumb guess."

"It's Iris" I said.

"I'm Patrick." He said sticking out his hand for me to shake. I shook it then began to walk towards the door out into the chilly air. The snow had already blanketed the side walks and shrubbery. I began to hale a cab.

"Where are you heading?" Patrick asked.

"The south part of 8th street." I answered as a cab stopped before me.

"Hey! My hotel is just a block away, care if we share a cab?" He asked.

"Fine with me." I said and got in the cab and he got in with me and told the driver where to go. His nose and cheeks had gained a pink hue from the cold. He rubbed his gloveless hands together and placed them between the knees of his black jeans for warmth.

"I'm so use to warm weather now I guess I don't know how to dress for snow anymore." He smiled.

"Where do you live now?" I asked.

"California" he answered.

"Oh so you are pursuing your music career?" I smirked.

"Not so much anymore." He said as his sentence tapered off into a mumble. The cab was quiet for a moment.

"I gave up too, don't feel bad." I finally said.

"What did you want to do?" He asked curiously.

"Ballet" I said.

"You don't seem like the type." He said eyeing my leather jacket and clunky black boots.

"Yeah, well..." I said not really giving a damn what type he thought I was.

"Can you dance?" He asked.

"What kind of ballerina would I of been If I couldn't dance?" I him a mean look.

"Well you said you gave up so I was just..." he trailed off.

"You said you did too. What were you in a band or something? Can you play any instruments?" I asked.

"Yeah, I play a few. I actually sing and play guitar in the band I'm in. And I never said I gave up, that was you assuming again." He said sharply as if to try to teach me some sort of a lesson instead of trying to hurt my feelings, neither of which worked.

"I thought we were playing some sort of a game that involved assumptions? So your not trying anymore for fame but you never gave up, is that like a riddle or something? You don't fit you job either, you seem sort of sheepish to be a front man." I said.

"No, no riddles. I'm very sheepish, it use to be much worse. Didn't set out for fame to begin with because of the fact that I'm so shy."

"So you are famous?" I asked

"Should it matter, Iris?" He asked as the cab came to a stop.

"No, Patrick it shouldn't for the simple fact were strangers but even if we weren't it still wouldn't. Its like asking you does it matter if I have a fake knee." I said. He was puzzled for a moment before it all hit him.

"That doesn't count as giving up." He said.

The cab driver said the total and Patrick reached into his wallet to pay but I was faster. I handed the driver the money and got out of the cab