The writer had known the girl for quite some time now.
It was on a breezy Friday afternoon when the girl moved in on the apartment a floor from his. He had just sent the draft to his editor, and the girl was carrying a large statue of a dog, which interestingly resembled an elongated Scooby-Doo. When the girl saw him, she smiled and headed upstairs, failing to notice his outstretched hand. She seemed determined to carry that dog right to the fourth floor. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to insult her strength why he didn’t insist on helping her, but at that split second, he sensed she was not the kind of girl to accept help easily, especially from men. That smile said it all: “hello, nice to meet you. I’m quite capable of carrying this statue, thank you, and I don’t really think I’m in the mood to meet new people today.” He could still surprise himself with his perceptiveness.
They eventually became friends. She was a chef in some three-star restaurant, and had quite a lot of friends herself. And it was in those lunchdates, Halloween parties, general get-together picnics and lazy afternoon conversations that he knew these of her: she had a way of handling and mingling with people without giving away the fact that she was basically shy. She liked having company and frequently cooked for her friends, but she could be as happy alone. She was an intellectual, with many diverse interests. Like him, she was a dreamer, but probably with more ambition and a truckload of insecurities. It must be her personal demon. She wouldn’t show her insecurity willingly, though. She was an essentially strong woman, who, despite her insecurities, would always look towards the light. She was sanguine and moody. A contradiction.
Today, she was feeling particularly forlorn. Probably her demon acting up again. She looked bored and dissatisfied, and the writer could see she needed a distraction, a redirection of thoughts. It wasn’t good to keep on being melancholic. She needed a friend.
He approached the bench she was sitting at in the park. “If you want to look ugly, all you have to do is take off your concealer and show your eyebags instead of sulking in a park,” he told her. “It just doesn’t work. You look like a sad Giselle(you know, from “Enchanted”?)”
She rolled her eyes. “Please don’t compromise your masculinity by admitting Enchanted’s your favorite movie.”
“Women find it sexy, actually.” He was glad to see her lips curve upward and that haughty look come back to her face. She had returned to life. “There’s a children’s choir concert on the east park. That’d be entertaining.” He held his hand out to her.
She looked up at him with eyes that said thank you.
“Well, I do love children,” and she took it.
-dated February 24,2009. wrote this on a whim, when I was trying to portray Woman as an ambiguous being, both strong and fragile, and how lucky she is to have a man that understands her with just one look. sort of inspired by Jason Mraz's song "A Beautiful Mess" (which BTW I think is one of the most romantic songs about relationships ever). :)
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photo by KECHI@DEVIANTART