I lifted my head from the notebook to take a second glance. As soon as I did, he looked away from me in embarrassment. The tall figure leaned his arm on the counter, awaiting Ute's arrival. Examining him, he looked about my age. His complexion was something out a film, blue eyes glinting in the sun ray beams, burning through the window. However, his face was canvas white, pale as a sheet. I heard him mumbling something to Ute. I know I shouldn't be so nosey, but I'm just curious. And anyway, he looks most handsome.
He wore tailored, beige trousers and connected to them were braces, dangling beside him. On his top half was a white, button up shirt with the sleeves scrunched up by his elbows. His head was capped with a chocolate Trilby, strings of blonde hair falling from underneath, and he walked in russet brogues. As soon as I knew it, he was walking towards me. I flicked my eyes down to my notebook again. I've never encountered someone that has made me look up from my book. It takes a lot.
It was something about him that I recognise but I can't quite put my finger on it. Something about they way he looked, I'm sure it's just my mind playing tricks on me. He seated himself at the table diagonal from me with his face in sight. He started to nibble on a shortbread biscuit, wrapped in sugar. Suddenly he glanced at me, sensing I was watching him eat. Our eyes met and I froze, starting to tremble in embarrassment. I felt my eyes well up and a tear crawled out from my locked, statue like eyes. A crooked smile grew upon my face for a split second and then continued to scribble down ideas. I felt him still looking at me.
"Sorry, I should mind my own business." I felt ashamed of myself.
"No no no, don't worry about it," he denied what I had said. His voice was hot chocolate, smooth and warming.
"Do you come here often? This is my first time." he asked.
"Yes, everyday in fact." I replied.
"I just moved here from Austria, where my Grandparents live."
"Why didn't you stay with your parents?" I asked, curiously.
"They... They died in the bombing. The bombing in Himmel Street." His tone lowered and his eyes gazing at his tea.
"So did my parents, I used to live there, in Himmel Strasse. So did my friend, he died." An image of Rudy painted itself across my mind.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
"So am I," I replied.
Silence fell between us. It just dawned on me that I was talking to a complete stranger.
"Why did you move away from Austria to Germany?" I said, ignoring the fact he was a stranger.
"My Grandparents thought I was old enough to face life on my own, so they sent me here."
I wonder where he lived, he looked about my age and he lived in Himmel Street at the same time as me. The same time as the bombs. I shouldn't even be addressing him as he.
"What's your name, sorry for not asking." I hated not knowing.
"Rudy."
"What?"
