Prelude to Untitled

I wrote this and posted it on the the Unruly Muses' forum and one amazing writer, Primrose had asked about the beginnings. I challenged her to write a prequel and this beautiful story was born.

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“What do you see in her?” They were always asking him.

“She’s very intense.”

“I just want to be sure you’re happy…”

“Don’t you think she’s a little…standoffish?”

He’s heard them all, and the truth is, he gets it. Sometimes he wonders why he sticks around himself. He knows why. He asked her out the second time because she was interesting, and complicated enough to make him want to know her better. They went to a little coffee shop just to talk, and she had already let him know that she was expecting him to come back to her place, no strings and no complications. It was a shop she’d never been to, and she’d ordered some complicated thing he couldn’t repeat to save himself. She had been in the middle of an angry monologue of something political when the drink arrived. It had an amazing amount of whipped cream, he remembered. She broke off her discourse, as they placed the coffee in front of her, and her face lit up with an expression of absolute delight. She forgot about her argument as she looked up at him, “I’m not sure how to start drinking it!” She gave a small laugh, her smile, for a brief moment, bright and beautiful.

He could still see it. In the short time he’d known her; he’d seen that look of sweet and uncomplicated joy only a few times. She hid it quickly, but he knew it was there. Every time he saw it, he fell in love with her again. He could spend a lifetime trying to bring that smile back to her face. It was worth it.

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Thank you so much, Primrose.

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