Letters to Marie

Chapter 1- The girl.

Letter Writers P.O.V.

The cold London air stings my nose as it shifts from fall to winter. I pull my sleeves over my hands, and think to myself how I thought my sweatshirt, sweatpants, and beanie would be enough but my pink nose disagrees.

Fans have not yet spotted me which gives me a feeling of relief and the streets are emptier than usual. I focus on my feet and look at all the cracks in the sidewalk and all the imperfections. Gum stuck to it, candy, wrappers, and loose leaves.

I begin walking past flats that look strangely familiar; I may have considered them for my own. I hear my phone beep signaling I have a new text message. I look down paying absolutely no attention to my surroundings, flick open the text and quickly respond back with a few taps of my fingers.

Clicking my phone off and slipping it back into my pants pocket, my shoulder hits someone a bit hard and I quickly spin around to see papers fall to the ground along with a grey knit beanie. I look up at a beautiful blonde whose gathering all her tightly curled blonde hair to one side of her head and carefully placing the beanie back on.

Speechless, I start gathering all her papers when I notice what they are, they're fashion drawings. There are also photography pictures mainly on the beach, but one sticks out the most to me. It’s of her well I think it’s her, on the beach with her hair messy and a sweater on. I look at the name on the drawings Marie, her name is Marie. I smile stupidly to myself for a second.

I jump out of my trance as she bends down on one knee to pick up the ones I haven't and I hand them all to her memorized by her eyes.

"Thanks." She tells me sweetly, taking her things from my hands. Her voice is soft, but higher pitched. It gives me a calm feeling.

"You're welcome." I respond to her after staring into her deep emerald green eyes that have flecks of turquoise along with a dark blue in them for a few seconds, she walks up to a door opening it with a key and closed the door behind her not even looking back at me.

I'm not sure what it is about her, she didn't even say two words to me just the one 'Thanks'. That's all she said, but for some reason I want her. I want her bad, she has this alluring thing about her that just draws me in and I need to have her. As I stand there just staring at the fancy wooden door that opens to her flat I stare at the address above it and an idea pops into my mind as the chrome numbers get pounded into my brain. I take a picture of the address and the street name and leave back to my flat, to begin what will keep me content for a good 26 days.

 (*Back at my flat*)

I quickly place my key into the hole and turn it to the right until I hear a quick click, pulling my key out I take three steps inside before shutting the door behind me.

Click. Cling. Clack.

The lock and my chain on the door made these noises as I locked it up behind me.

"Paper, paper. Where do I keep paper at?" I question myself out loud, searching around my room.

"Damn where is it?" I continued to speak out loud to myself when I finally spot computer paper by my couch.

"Yes." I take two pieces of the unwrinkled, perfect paper; I lay them carefully on my desk and go get my favorite pen.

Click.

I push on the top and hear the top click; I sit in the desk chair and look at the blank paper for a few seconds. I stick the end of the pen in my mouth and bite it before coming up with what I'm going to write.

      A...