18 ≫ l.t

18

18

        A while back, there was this guy. He had bright blue eyes that could power all the electricity in the world.

        We met at a train station in London, and he was heading towards North Yorkshire, to meet his Grandmother who was experiencing bad memory loss. I remember that I sat down on the green nylon and wool seats. The trip was about four hours, so I'd decided to take off my long cardigan and drape it over myself as a blanket.

        The cushion dipped as a warm body slipped in the seat next to me. The man placed his windbreaker in between our seats. He stood up and and placed his suitcase below our seats. When he stood up, he looked up at me and smiled.

        "Hi," he said quietly, smiling.

        "Hello," I said in reply to him. He sat back down and opened up a novel called Home by Garret Winston. I watched him through the corner of my eye read the book intently.

        As the wheels started shifting he closed the book and picked up a cup of hot tea and sipped it delicately.

        The train wheels halted unexpectedly. The mans hot tea dropped from his hand to the ground, making a stain in the thin carpet, and a bit on my old worn boots.

        "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry." He said as he reached down to grab the almost empty cup.

        "No you're fine, they were old anyway." I said trying to lighten the mood.

        "We apologize for this inconvenience. Our trip will be delayed by about twenty minutes." A voice over the intercom said loudly.

        "Crap, I'll never make it before visiting hours close." The man mumbled underneath his breath. I gave him a confused look. "My grandmum is in the Richmond hospital and i planned to see her then catch the train back, but now I don't think I'll make it in time." He explained to me, rushing a couple of his words together. "Where are you headed?" He had asked me.

        "Oh I'm going up there to meet my brother and his wife for dinner." I'd said to him. " I honestly can't believe my parents let me, I mean I'm barely eighteen and I just finished college."

        By hearing my age, it must've perked his interest. "Oh really? Me too. I hope to spend my gap year traveling, and writing a novel. What about you?" I bit my lip thinking thoroughly about the question.

        " I honestly haven't decided yet. Maybe getting a part time job working in my dad's office.

        We talked for another two hours about writing and what our future ambitions were. He said that he wanted to be the Charles Dickens of 2011, and even if he wanted too, he couldn't stop reading nor writing.

        It was his passion.

        The way he spoke about literature mesmerized me.

        As our trip finally came to an end, I felt something in my heart that was new and different. Though a good different. It felt more amazing than when I got straight A's all throughout twelfth year, more precious than when my little nephew was born last May. More exciting than when I saw Justin Timberlake live in fourth year.

        I just hope to see him again some day.

        I looked down at his empty seat and realized he left his jacket. I quickly sprinted from my seat and pulled on my now wrinkled cardigan. With his windbreaker securely tucked under my sleeve, I ran outside of the large train station and to the Richmond hospital hoping to find a woman named Lorna Gordon, his grandmum on his mother's side. Luckily it wasn't to far or else I would've passed out by now.

        Once I entered the hospital, I saw the back of a mans head as he was arguing with a nurse. "Please just let me see her-"

        "Sir visiting hours are over, I can't let you in" she protested.

        "But-" the man got cut off abruptly.

       "Do I need to call security? " she said authoritatively. Without saying another word the man turned around and walked towards the revolving doors.

        "Hey" he said to me. I looked up and it was him. I ran into his arms as he held them out, laughing. "What're you doing here?" He asked.

        I looked down to see the wrinkled windbreaker on the floor along with my purse. "You left your windbreaker on the train."

        "But what about your brother?" He asked smiling.

        "Who cares about him."

        That was. Probably the best night if my entire life. The most i've even laughed and smiled within one day.

        Sincerely,
        Evie Hopkins.

***

        I closed the black leather journal and placed in on my white polished desk.
"Hey babe what're you looking at?" He said sweetly.

        "Oh nothing, just some old journal entries." I said, focusing my vision on him. He came down to my height and read over the entry smiling as he read each word carefully. After he'd talked about his love for literature, it'd sparked my interest as well, and I've written about almost all of my favorite experiences.

        He finally wrote his novel, it's #1 in the UK currently, and so maybe if he goes on a book tour, we can do some more traveling like we did on our gap year. We'd visited France, Italy, and India; staying about a month in each country before returning to the life of Uni. But That was a good seven years ago. 

        "Why don't you write one more? You know to finish it off." He suggested. I nodded approvingly at the idea and picked up a ballpoint pen with black ink.

        I wrote for about thirty minutes before putting down the nearly inked out pen and turning around to see him passed out on the couch. His chocolate brown hair was sticking in all directions. Picking my pen back up, I wrote two more sentences then closed the journal.

        I've loved you since we were eighteen. Long before we both though the same thing.

        Sincerely,
        Evie Tomlinson.