tabloid junkie (Michael Jackson)

January 17ᵗʰ ─ 9:00 ᵖᵐ

            Edited.

   We were in the city, where the stores were lined directly beside each other and the blocks were very lengthy. 

            I watched Michael, he was wearing a furry black jacket and big round shades on his eyes, his short hair was blowing like a wrinkled skirt in the wind.

          "So...where to, Mr. Jackson?" I stopped on the sidewalk, my hands clasped together, because it was freezing.

"Um..." He seemed to be thinking, before he looked down at my hand, he reached over and grabbed my hand softly, examining it. "What's this? It's beautiful."

 I realized he meant the diamond-curved silver ring on my hand. "Oh, it's my grandmother's ring, she gave it to me before she died." I pursed my lips. "I haven't taken it off since I was 7."

He let go of my hand, and looked down at me, a small sparkle in his naturally dark brown eyes. "There is something intensely familiar about you." He shook his head, squinting his eyes. "I don't know how, but I feel like I've known  you before."

      I shifted my head to the side, staring at him, the pale gleam of his skin, the profound look in his eyes. "I'm sure you haven't." I laughed. 

"I'd be glad to have, though." He stated, and it was in that moment that I realized just how tall he was. compared to me.

 Before I knew what was happening, he had drew closer to kiss me, holding my face in place, but it was a quick peck against my lips and I felt disappointed when he pulled away.

Then we just continued walking as if we hadn't did anything.

I stop walking when I spot an antique store. "Let's go in here." I say, opening the door and walking inside. Michael followed behind me, and while I went to search for stuff. He busied himself by the paintings.

A snow globe caught my eye, a small woman was inside and snow was falling on her head. She was the only person in the globe. All alone.

I brought that to the front desk, hiding my face behind my hair as I bought it for 20$.

A few minutes after the antique store, as we were walking, this happened:

I had been playing with my new snow globe, tilting it up and down, jiggling it. Michael had had his hands stuffed into his pocket.

"Diana?" It was a stupid, but I whirled around, dropping my globe as a light flashed in my face, and the light was so painfully bright, I saw colors. Blue, yellow, and white and red. I shielded my face with my hands for a second.

Michael didn't seem to care that he could have been caught, because he was calling out my name, and asking if I were okay, while putting his hands on my back and wheeling us the other way.

We lost the reporter, which yes, I know it was a reporter because it was a camera. Michael and I were hiding on the side of a building. I blinked away the painful colors. "How do you deal with it?"

"By wearing these." Michael reached up and plucked the glasses off his face, a wide red smile curving on his face.