The Girl in the Window - 1
What is the worst thing that can happen? - 📖 ONE-MINUTE FICTION
He hasn’t seen her for a couple of days. Tuesday was the last time. But now, here she is back again. He watches her order coffee and peach pie. She sits, framed, at a table in the front window, like she is posing for Edward Hopper.
He often watches her, but she never notices him. They’ve been here in this same coffee shop so many times, but he’s never once spoken to her.
( Why can’t I just smile? Or say hello? What is wrong with me? She is just a girl.)
But no, she is not just a girl. There is something unusual about her. He studies her carefully, like observing a rare plant. Not in a creepy way or anything, he just likes the look of her, that’s all. He notices that her clothes are quiet; her jacket is the brown of a mushroom, her skirt, the dark blue of a night sky. Short boots, woolly socks pulled up. She takes off her knitted cap, and runs her fingers through her hair — hair that’s been cut at a sharp angle, like a soft whisk broom against her cheek.
But — and this is the odd thing, he’s never seen her with a cell phone in her hand, she’s never used a laptop. Sometimes she’ll read a book for a few minutes — he saw her wrapped up with Dickinson one time, but mostly she just sits quietly, looking like she has ideas, like she is remembering something or planning something clever. She seems comfortable just being alone with herself and thinking about stuff. It makes her stand out.
He’d like to just stand up, walk over to her table and introduce himself.
( Hi. My name’s Jeremy. I see you in here a lot. Would you mind if I joined you?)
How hard could that be? What is the worst thing that could happen? He’d do it right now if he had any idea of what to say that might impress her. He imagines how it would be to walk out the door with her beside him, the feel of her fingers entwined with his.
He gets up with a sigh, and goes to the counter to refill his cup. When he returns, she’s standing at his table. “Hi,” she says, “my name’s Lucy. I see you in here a lot. Mind if I sit down?”
Eric Satie “Je Te Veux” [ I want you ]
Link to Part 2
Sharron, loved the story of Lucy and Jeramy. I'm so in love with these short short stories, 50 or 100 words. So fun. I'm working on one now from Justin Deming's prompt for this week, about the bench by the workshop. Hopefully it will come to something and I will post it on his thread. But I love your comparisons: "like an Edward Hopper painting." And we learn so much about her from that bit of description: Dickinson, no cell phone or laptop, her clothes. Well done my writing sister. -- AnnieKate
More than a short short story, your glimpses into the heartbeats of others’ lives could deserve a new type of writing. They overshoot categorization. Maybe daVincis? Leonardo wrote upside down and backwards, and painted the enigmatic Mona Lisa. I’m so enthralled with your perspectives. Thank you for sharing. HeARTfully, Jill