We are not entirely sure when or how it happened but everyone in the world can speak in their native language and can be understood. Well I guess speaking isn't quite right, more like hearing would be better. Sorry allow me to introduce myself. My name is Shelly. I'm a young woman in my early twenties, never ask a lady her age. I'm 5' 7" and on the lean side again never ask a lady her weight either. I have shoulder length blond hair but not like dumb blonde or bleach blonde more like a soft golden color and a leafy green shade of eyes. This is my story on how I made the most unlikely of friends and the strange events that unfolded.
The sound of typing was the only sound that could be heard in the quiet room. The soft glow of a computer was the only source of light in the dimly lit room. It was a corner office modestly decorated. An oak desk sat in the middle of the room with a computer in the middle desk which only held a small potted plant and a desk lamp. A bookcase stood against the far wall held a collection of different kinds of books and manuscripts. The only other furniture that was in the room were three chairs, two in front of the desk, basic wooden chairs, and a typical office chair behind the desk.
A young lady with shoulder length blond hair pulled up into a tight bun at the base of her neck typed on the computer. She was dressed in a charcoal gray pantsuit. The dark colored curtains were pulled back on the mid sized window. The sun had dipped below the horizon leaving the sky outside in a grayish light.
"That late already? Wow, where did the time go? This author has a hell of a hook and a wonderful story. Once I finish the first read though I will have to ask for a signed copy and one of the first prints." She said to herself as she stood up and stretched after powering down the computer and turning off the lamp she picked up a bundle of printed papers held in a white binder. The story within it had no title as of yet and the author was extremely secretive. Always mailed in the story and it looked as if it was written on an old fashioned typewriter. ' I want to meet this person, I don't even know if it's male or female but the worlds oh the worlds they build.' She thought as she slipped her sneakers on, placing the binder on the bookshelf, she knew that with how late it was there was no one left In the office other than security and the cleaning crew.
After picking up her purse she locked the solid oak office door that read Shelly M. Smith. Putting her keys in her purse and heading to the elevator. While she waited she took a look around the waiting area in the middle of the floor. All around were offices for different occupations. The ding of the elevator brought her back to herself. She had unknowingly let her mind drift into the realm of the story that was delivered just this morning. Again her only wish was to meet the creator of such worlds. Stepping into the elevator she noticed that a young man with dirty blond hair and honey colored eyes. He looked to be not much older than herself. He was muscular but not like a bodybuilder type or gym buff. He was dressed in plain clothing, nothing that stuck out as odd. The one thing that would have been odd was the tiny specks of black ink on his hands, if she herself had never seen or had them herself.
After a few moments Shelly felt compelled to introduce herself.
"Hello my name is Shelly what is yours?" She said as she extended her hand for him to shake. The young man tilted his head to the side and gave her a quizzical look. 'Is he deaf, did this just get even more awkward?' She thought.
"I'm sorry, it's just I haven't heard anyone speak that tongue for close to three millennia. Good evening my name is Draco and you can probably tell by my name I am a dragon." He replied as he took her hand and shook it with a large toothy smile at her shock.