Lauren mae

Him

His eyes were deep blue but soft. The kind of rough that glides across the tip of your fingers like water pulling sand off the beach. He wasn't tall but tall enough. His hair, black and curly. complementing his eyes almost as much as the blue modal long sleeve he was wearing. His beard was long and scruffy but I could see his skin was pale and smooth underneath, shaping his lips like a drop of water rippling the surface. He dressed casual. his casual was clean and his Liz Clainorne cologne lurked around me making it hard to breathe, making it hard to stand still, coagulating any kind of blood flow to my head. His voice was deep, raspy almost. You could hear the compassion but it was stern and assuring. His hands were bridle and dry, daddy always told me a man with beaten hands Is a man with a healing heart. He was cloying, every inch of him. Hanging my head trying to hide my pale freckled skin that seemed to detail in the sun. Dragging my toes through the sand twirling my hair between my thin fingers like my mother used to do. Making her long thin hair naturally curly. It exasperated me as a child, here I find myself doing it. I deliberately nudged his shoulder hoping it would start even the slightest conversation. He was a raconteur, you could tell just by the way he held himself. He was witty and a storyteller, lucky for me so was I or I thought I was at least. ”sorry” he muffled out, not even picking his head up. ”thats okay” I managed to get out through the stone that laid in the bottom of my dry, itchy throat. I remember i kept walking. A million things were rolling through my mind like stones rolling down a mountain crashing into dry bridle clay, leaving dust that fogged what little vision I had left ”what do I do” I murmured to myself. I felt a slight tap on my shoulder, making every nerve in my body tingle with what felt like integrety. ”Excuse me” ill never forget his voice hitting the back of my neck abetting and diffusing any train of thought I had. ”do I know you” he spoke again softly. No, but I would love to know you I thought to myself at the time. The wind blushing his pale skin. ”no I don't believe so, I'm not from here”. knowing damn good and well that I was stuck in this shit hole of a town I sadly called home. For a min he sat there, as if he were contemplating whether he knew me or not, or observing my face. I could feel the sweat rolling down my chest. ”shit” I murmured. I couldn't breathe again. ”what?” he said, with concern in his voice. ”what?” I said, not even realizing I just said what I said aloud. I put my hand to my chest, making sure I was still breathing. ”nothing” I pushed out ”its nothing, no I'm sorry I do not know you”. ”oh okay” he said. ”well I'll let you go now.” the moment was almost fervid. Odd but breath taking. Because who knew I would simply, let him walk away. Why did he turn around to adress me? He didnt even pick up his head, he couldnt have seen my face? I didn't even know I was capable of letting someone so blithe go, I myself was blithe and it takes one to know one. Despite the urge of wanting to chase you like some sappy fairytale, or get your number, it is that day in time id assume. I watched you walk away leaving me with nothing but urge and curiosity. Who were you? why did I need to know you ? i remember thinking that to myself....