Torn pieces of paper
by Argent
Leaving torn pieces of paper on the floor beneath him. Trying to make himself forget the name that had been written
*
She sat there. Sipping her martini. Alone as always.
He had been expecting her. Expecting the joy in his heart she would bring when she walked through the doors. Expecting the heartbreak that would come when she left.
Her glass was almost empty and soon she would call him forward and order another one. He began to prepare. Drink mixer filled with ice, the almost empty bottle of martini near his reach.
But for now he was contempt watching her. There was a sadness in her. It always was. Tears that never fell. Mike, an old taxi driver that always drank Heiniken had once told him that he used to sit at his end of the bar, hoping for her tears to fall. It wasn't good to bottle up emotion the way she did. Silently he had agreed.
Every month at the same time she would open the doors of O'Mally's and leave Los Angeles behind her. He didn't know why she came here. Didn't know why a princess like her would sat a foot inside O'Mally's but after a while he didn't care. Every month she was his, if only for a while.
She never spoke. She only ordered her usual and sat down, somewhere away from the others. Never tried to chat with some of the others regulars. Just sat there, drinking her three martinis and then walking away. Leaving him longing for the next time, for next month.
Her glass was empty now. Her delicate hand lifted to call him forward, the other one toying with the pen and paper before her.
He took the empty glass from her and began mixing her the third drink for the evening. Thinking back on the moments when he had tried to impress her, swirling the bottle up in the air only to catch it moments later. Making moves he hadn't used since the course he had taken last year. She had never noticed so he had stopped.
Finishing with her drink he sat it down before her and walked to the other end of the bar. Greeted Mike and prepared his beer. All the time sneaking glances in her direction.
She wore the grey suit today. He liked that one better than the black that she sometimes wore. The black one had made her pale, fragile. Yet she always wore it, that or the grey suit she was wearing today.
Still it wasn't the clothes that fascinated him. It was her eyes. Hazel with the slightest touch of gold. Eyes that shone of pain. Eyes that had seen to much, that was too old.
As he watched she finished her drink and rose. Walked slowly out through the doors and onto the streets of Los Angeles. and as the door closed she left him behind between the walls of O'Mally's.
He took her glass and placed it behind the counter. Tried to catch her lingering scent in the air.
Found the paper she had been writing. Read the first three lines and then stopped. Tore the paper in parts. Not willing to think of her life outside those doors. Not willing to think of her as someone else's, someone she loved.
Instead he began to think of next month, the next time she would walk in until he heard someone calling his name and started to work again.
Leaving torn pieces of paper on the floor beneath him. Trying to make himself forget the name that had been written. Five letters that now haunted him. Five letters that had what he desired.
Fin
all characters © other then me
by Argent
Leaving torn pieces of paper on the floor beneath him. Trying to make himself forget the name that had been written
*
She sat there. Sipping her martini. Alone as always.
He had been expecting her. Expecting the joy in his heart she would bring when she walked through the doors. Expecting the heartbreak that would come when she left.
Her glass was almost empty and soon she would call him forward and order another one. He began to prepare. Drink mixer filled with ice, the almost empty bottle of martini near his reach.
But for now he was contempt watching her. There was a sadness in her. It always was. Tears that never fell. Mike, an old taxi driver that always drank Heiniken had once told him that he used to sit at his end of the bar, hoping for her tears to fall. It wasn't good to bottle up emotion the way she did. Silently he had agreed.
Every month at the same time she would open the doors of O'Mally's and leave Los Angeles behind her. He didn't know why she came here. Didn't know why a princess like her would sat a foot inside O'Mally's but after a while he didn't care. Every month she was his, if only for a while.
She never spoke. She only ordered her usual and sat down, somewhere away from the others. Never tried to chat with some of the others regulars. Just sat there, drinking her three martinis and then walking away. Leaving him longing for the next time, for next month.
Her glass was empty now. Her delicate hand lifted to call him forward, the other one toying with the pen and paper before her.
He took the empty glass from her and began mixing her the third drink for the evening. Thinking back on the moments when he had tried to impress her, swirling the bottle up in the air only to catch it moments later. Making moves he hadn't used since the course he had taken last year. She had never noticed so he had stopped.
Finishing with her drink he sat it down before her and walked to the other end of the bar. Greeted Mike and prepared his beer. All the time sneaking glances in her direction.
She wore the grey suit today. He liked that one better than the black that she sometimes wore. The black one had made her pale, fragile. Yet she always wore it, that or the grey suit she was wearing today.
Still it wasn't the clothes that fascinated him. It was her eyes. Hazel with the slightest touch of gold. Eyes that shone of pain. Eyes that had seen to much, that was too old.
As he watched she finished her drink and rose. Walked slowly out through the doors and onto the streets of Los Angeles. and as the door closed she left him behind between the walls of O'Mally's.
He took her glass and placed it behind the counter. Tried to catch her lingering scent in the air.
Found the paper she had been writing. Read the first three lines and then stopped. Tore the paper in parts. Not willing to think of her life outside those doors. Not willing to think of her as someone else's, someone she loved.
Instead he began to think of next month, the next time she would walk in until he heard someone calling his name and started to work again.
Leaving torn pieces of paper on the floor beneath him. Trying to make himself forget the name that had been written. Five letters that now haunted him. Five letters that had what he desired.
Fin
all characters © other then me