A Path Crossed Over

.3.

He knew it was her. Unrecognizable on the outside, but her soul...

It's scent lingered in the air.

The soul he lost, 75 years ago. 

He wanted to scream her name, hold her just one more time. He didn't even know what her name would be in this life. He was a stranger. 

"Is it really you," he asked.

A heap of regret took over. Why did he say that. It's not like she would understand. The confusion on her face could say it all.

"Sorry, my mistake. I thought you were someone else." He said, keeping his face composed. "You resemble an old friend... Annabelle." 

She gave him a slight smile. Her chilled, blue eyes cautious. She then aimlessly strode off. From his peripherals he watched her. She was wearing dark blue jeans, which really accentuated her ass. He wanted to smack it, ever so slightly. A little flick of the wrist. Her honey blonde hair flowed at her shoulders, slightly unkempt. It shimmered under the light. Her hands looked shaky, as she grabbed a key card out of her pocket. 

He lingered in the hall, although  She was already in her room. Just thinking back, made his heart burst violently. Having strong memories of a past life, had it's downsides. The memories stored, sometimes hurt. They were gut wrenching, annihilating. He needed to remain collected, his pub needed it, his future. Though, the future would be better with her. 

He gave his head a shake, as if to remove any lingering fervency. He had business to take care of. So on he went. 

Noah owned and tended the bar of his family pub The Walsh Hound. The pub in which his father recently owned, was now in his hands.

He walked down the street, and tried to go over the budget in his head. Maybe he should of hired that accountant. 

After a good 5 minute trek, he stopped to face a rust colored brick building sitting on the corner. Green painted concrete bordered the windows. Doors the same shade, opened and a few patrons ejected out. Over the door was a sign, the color of dark moss. Bold letters in a sandy hue read out The Walsh Hound. A painted dog head presented itself by the lettering. It resembled a Welsh Hound, with a green leprechaun hat, smoking a pipe. Noah opened the door, and a bustle of drunkards singing jaunty Irish tunes could be heard. 

He barely made it inside, before his sister Ailis tronched toward him. By the way her lips puffed out, and the stamping of her feet, Noah knew. Noah knew exactly,  that he was about to hear it. 

Her arms raised up high, and her hands frantically waved back and forth. 

"Did you see the sales yesterday." Her eyes bulged out, always the drama queen. 

"It was a slow night, what can I do." 

"Don't you get it Noah, you can barely afford inventory, let alone the few staff you have. I should of gotten the bar over you. " Ailis crossed her arms, and began to pout. 

"Well what am I supposed to do." Said Noah, his voice raised slightly,  as his arms began to rise. "I am going to have a bad night once in a while." 

"Yeah," Ailis  continued to fume. "Wouldn't be a problem if you didn't buy that new jukebox. You also have been more a little more non-existent here the last few weeks. I had to call Daddy in because last Saturday we were packed. He gave you his bar, and I have been stuck doing your job. Daddy and I did this all for you. The least you can do is act grateful." 

Noah loved his sister, but she really got on his nerves all the time. She was right though, and he refused to admit it to himself. Instead of working, hes been going out, blowing off some steam. This new job just fell in his lap, more like forced. He loved the pub, and all it stood for of course. He wasn't ready though. With his father moving towards retirement, he had no choice but to take over. Ailis was too young, naive, and full of herself to take over the family legacy. When he really wanted to, Noah had powerful drive. He had been a hard worker, for most big his life. Wasn't he allowed a break? 

"I am grateful, I love this place as much as you do. I'm under a lot of stress here. Lots of new responsibilities,  and it's getting a bit overwhelming. But ok, I am here now. I guess you can go home if you want." He really wanted nothing else to do with her tonight, so he wished she would take the offer. 

"Yeah, ok, well thanks then. You need my help tomorrow." She asked, while putting her jacket over her shoulders. 

"Nah, take the day off." 

Work actually would help today. He would be keeping himself busy, and his mind distracted. Not thinking about a certain pair of dazzling blue eyes, a window to the soul he once loved. He should even be expecting a mix of eye candy to gander at, to clear her face from his thoughts. Searching for her, submitting himself could just make things complicated.  It didn't end well the first time anyways.  

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Ailis is a name that originated in Ireland. It is pronounced Ay-leesh