Chapter One.
Hello, John.
Hey, Clary. May I come in?
Of course.
I let John Reese inside. It was cold outside, and he shivered a little as he took off his long black coat.
I went to the kitchen and emerged a few minutes later with a hot cup of coffee.
I had gotten used to John dropping in at odd nights, sometimes looking haggard and sleepy. I didn't really know what he did, but I had an idea that I shouldn't find out.
You see, we met in the most unconventional way.
He was undercover at a book signing. And I was in line for the signature. He approached me; we began to talk, about the author, and books. Naturally, the talk gravitated towards reading and literature, and we walked out together out of the local library-cum-bookstore, and he very kindly walked me home.
And that very night, a person happened to break into my house. I was to be a part of an elaborate kidnapping scheme, and would have been, had John, not appeared on the scene.
To this day he doesn't openly tell me how he knew to come to my house. He told me he had information that this would happen; to be frank it hurt a little to find out that our acquaintance was not a spontaneous one. However, you tend to forgive a fellow when he happens to save your life.
(By-the-way, I am not anybody so important or rich to get kidnapped – my mother is. Owns a couple breweries and bars, but I digress – this isn't relevant to this story too much)
The coffee is great, Clary.
Thanks, John. Want more?
No, thank you.
I have a little lasagna leftover. Want it?
I – Yes. I'm famished.
John saved my life that day. How I don't know. All I know is that my house had been broken in, and as I sat in the dark in my bed, I heard people getting knocked about.
Anyway, that night John took me to his house, where we met his friend. His friend, Mr. Finch, looks so much like a kindly professor. He has great taste in books, and as I talked to him, I realized that some way it had been his words in John's mouth at the library.
How come you're up so late?
I was reading a new book.
Naturally.
John smiled as he said it.
So, are you going to finish it tonight?
Yes. This is an interesting one.
Do you mind if I-
Oh, no, please. You look very tired.
I am.
John moved towards the next room, shrugging of his Suit-jacket. It looked fancy, but dusty – as though it had been lying on the sidewalk.
Would you like anything special for breakfast?
Just the regular.
I liked it when he came to stay over. Sometimes he just came over, chatted, ate and left. One time, he was so uncommunicative, that I was a little alarmed. He just sat on the sofa, leaning back, for hours. He insisted that I go to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night to still find him sitting there like that. That was actually the first time he'd stayed over – I asked him to take a nap in the bed.
He'd looked at me for a minute. I told him I didn't mean anything by it other than resting, and he laughed a short laugh, almost like a bark.
But he did come to bed and snuggled in so quietly that I didn't know he was in there till morning.
But ever since then, he tends to come over, never more than twice a week, sometimes none.
Good morning, John.
I had gotten up to see John already dressed.
You can use the shower, I won't mind.
That's alright.
He moved towards to kitchen, and so did I.
We had breakfast, and immediately John turned to leave.
Another job? This early?
Yeah. I actually need to somewhere very urgently.
Okay, then. I'll see you.
He turned around at the door when I said this, a sad yet amused smile on his face.
Sure. I'll see you.
Just like that, he was gone.
I get up earlier than usual whenever John's been staying since he tends to leave very early. Lately, he's been coming more often, and I have kind of gotten used to him. I think perhaps both of us have a lonely home. I have always liked it, until now, when I find myself getting comfortable with another person in my home.
Another thing about us, I realized, is that we can stay silent for long periods of time, and not be bothered by it. Most people find that unnatural in me, taking me to reserved or shy – I can be as bold as brass when I wish to be.
I think John finds comfort in the fact that I don't expect him to speak, or tell me anything.
.
.