watched as the man named Gabe entered. He snuck up behind the girl and gave her a hug that appeared uncomfortable at first. She turned and smiled at him as she pulled her ear buds out. They began to laugh together and I noticed the girl was the awkward part of the interaction. She returned his embrace and laughed, but the way she held herself was as though the intimacy wasn't common for her.
I turned away, to give them a semblance of privacy and found the stern glare of a small German woman.
“Wynn,” she said with her slight accent. “Why are you lurking?”
I gave her wide eyes and a smile, “Lurking?” I put A Brave New World back on the shelf and leaned against the balcony rail.
“Yes, lurking .” She pushed her glasses up on her face and stepped closer to me. She was a foot and a half shorter than me and I smiled as I towered over her. She looked up and she was so close our toes almost touched. “I saw the way you keep looking at my new employee,” she said as her face held a stern expression for a few moments as she then turned it into a wide smile.
“So ,” I whispered as I looked to make sure Gabe kept the girl occupied.
“So…” s he said as she held the O shape with her mouth before continuing. “Well so you have never had such curiosity in your eyes. It's an interesting expression on your face, though foreign.”
“I can’t help it ,” I said in a whisper. “It's her. I want to know her, but I don’t.” I looked toward the front of the store and saw her still sitting at the counter talking to Gabe. “When did she start here?”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Wynn you are a funny guy. But I am happy someone has captured your interest. I worry. But to answer your question, today is her first day.”
I lifted my eyes to the ceiling. “I’m fine, Petra.” I thought of the odd coincidence. “We keep crossing paths. I don't want her to think I’m stalking her.”
“Well, I am sure that is precisely what she will think if she saw you lurking. You aren’t fine, either. You never leave your house except to take photos of god knows what. The people you talk to most are a woman obsessed with books, a tattooed man, and that crazy friend of yours ,” she said as she leaned against the shelf.
“I’m particular of whom I give my time .” I looked back at the bookshelf as I stepped away from Petra. I didn’t want the girl to hear me talking of her. Creep is not the label I wanted to receive. I am quiet, but because I choose not to speak and for shit’s sake I was spying on her in her place of work, I was a fucking creep. I didn’t appear crazy, I was crazy.
“You need to give your time to someone though, Wynn. Life is too short not to try. I worry and I don’t want to pass from this world knowing you’re alone ,” she said with a sad expression.
I turned back to face her, “Oh god, not you now too. I’m fine on my own and yes I find her interesting .” I leaned toward her to speak quieter, “But give me space. I need to do this in my own way, on my own time, and at my own pace.”
She nodded tight lipped as she squeezed my shoulder and walked away. I wondered what she meant by her comment on dying. She wasn’t sick and she wasn’t old, so it was an odd statement to make and it left me uneasy.
I’m not afraid of death, I’m afraid of what little privacy death gives us. When we are living we have control of our masks. In death, we lose that control and secrets show themselves to the world. It’s as if they sleep in peace, waiting for the last breath to come so they can move with freedom, spreading their wings across loved ones left alive.
As I snuck out the back door of the store and got on my bike, I realized I never got the girl’s name. I figured it was for the best.
On Sunday, I spent most of my time riding my bike out of town and taking photos. It’s always a release for me—to ride in the country and breathe fresh air. I took the road the farmhouse
I turned away, to give them a semblance of privacy and found the stern glare of a small German woman.
“Wynn,” she said with her slight accent. “Why are you lurking?”
I gave her wide eyes and a smile, “Lurking?” I put A Brave New World back on the shelf and leaned against the balcony rail.
“Yes, lurking .” She pushed her glasses up on her face and stepped closer to me. She was a foot and a half shorter than me and I smiled as I towered over her. She looked up and she was so close our toes almost touched. “I saw the way you keep looking at my new employee,” she said as her face held a stern expression for a few moments as she then turned it into a wide smile.
“So ,” I whispered as I looked to make sure Gabe kept the girl occupied.
“So…” s he said as she held the O shape with her mouth before continuing. “Well so you have never had such curiosity in your eyes. It's an interesting expression on your face, though foreign.”
“I can’t help it ,” I said in a whisper. “It's her. I want to know her, but I don’t.” I looked toward the front of the store and saw her still sitting at the counter talking to Gabe. “When did she start here?”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Wynn you are a funny guy. But I am happy someone has captured your interest. I worry. But to answer your question, today is her first day.”
I lifted my eyes to the ceiling. “I’m fine, Petra.” I thought of the odd coincidence. “We keep crossing paths. I don't want her to think I’m stalking her.”
“Well, I am sure that is precisely what she will think if she saw you lurking. You aren’t fine, either. You never leave your house except to take photos of god knows what. The people you talk to most are a woman obsessed with books, a tattooed man, and that crazy friend of yours ,” she said as she leaned against the shelf.
“I’m particular of whom I give my time .” I looked back at the bookshelf as I stepped away from Petra. I didn’t want the girl to hear me talking of her. Creep is not the label I wanted to receive. I am quiet, but because I choose not to speak and for shit’s sake I was spying on her in her place of work, I was a fucking creep. I didn’t appear crazy, I was crazy.
“You need to give your time to someone though, Wynn. Life is too short not to try. I worry and I don’t want to pass from this world knowing you’re alone ,” she said with a sad expression.
I turned back to face her, “Oh god, not you now too. I’m fine on my own and yes I find her interesting .” I leaned toward her to speak quieter, “But give me space. I need to do this in my own way, on my own time, and at my own pace.”
She nodded tight lipped as she squeezed my shoulder and walked away. I wondered what she meant by her comment on dying. She wasn’t sick and she wasn’t old, so it was an odd statement to make and it left me uneasy.
I’m not afraid of death, I’m afraid of what little privacy death gives us. When we are living we have control of our masks. In death, we lose that control and secrets show themselves to the world. It’s as if they sleep in peace, waiting for the last breath to come so they can move with freedom, spreading their wings across loved ones left alive.
As I snuck out the back door of the store and got on my bike, I realized I never got the girl’s name. I figured it was for the best.
On Sunday, I spent most of my time riding my bike out of town and taking photos. It’s always a release for me—to ride in the country and breathe fresh air. I took the road the farmhouse
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