Minutes Before The Miracle

CHAPTER - 8

It's a humble request to share your thoughts regarding the story.

Hope you enjoy.

Happy reading!

-x-

Thought of the chapter :-

A smile is a curve that sets everything right.
- Phyllis Diller

-x-

STEVEN

The road isn't depeopled but movement is sparse. Lights seem to be struggling to filter through the gusts of wind blended with a flavour of rain. A faint halo highlights the hazzy silhouettes on the road.

Noting the time to be 07:55, I look outside again. It's not often that I wait for people, it's almost always the other way round.

A sudden rush pulls me out of my trance and I see Emma hurriedly stepping out of a cab. She espies me from that distance and I stare directly into her eyes with immense confidence.

"I am not late." she says hurriedly as soon as she reaches the table.

'Wow.'

I stare at her for a few seconds. Or should I rather say 'ogle'.

"When did I ever say that you are?" I ask as I get to my feet, smiling inwardly.

I slice the awkward silence that lasts for a few seconds.

"Have a seat."

"Yeah." she replies as she sits.

"Would you need some more time, sir?" the waiter interrupts.

I look at her for her choice.

"Umm... I will settle for a coffee. Latte please."

"Make that two." I order, not taking my eyes off her.

"Right, sir." The guy replies and scurries off.

"So, what queries do you have?" I start.

"Hold on for a second."

She fishes a thick notepad and a blue bodied pen out of her sling.

"Yeah. Ready?"

"Is this an interview?" I ask allowing myself a smile, rather a low-intensity laughter.

"Can I say something unofficial?" she questions. A tad of nervousness sculpts her features.

"If you wish to."

"Smile more often. It suits you." she almost whispers.

"We should get started." The let my signature seriousness carve my face again. She doesn't know that I don't have much reason to smile. Nobody knows. And nobody needs to.

"Tell me something about your childhood."

'What? Are we starting from my childhood? Seriously?'

"I don't wish to." I refused blatantly.

"What? Why?" She looks bewildered.

"Off limits. Can we move on?" My voice turns rigid.

"Fine. I got to know that you did your graduation from Harvard but you never completed it. Any reasons?"

The server interrupts us, placing the cups of coffee and saving me for a few precious moments. I take a sip, just to kill a little time. She reciprocates.

"No. I don't wish to." I speak up.

"Sorry." she says, confused.

"I don't want to tell my reasons for leaving Harvard."