A/N: Good evening/morning to you all! Here is the awaiting second chapter. I know how you're excited to see Amy entering Dr. Cooper's balanced life. We will soon see together. But let me say this; she'll definitely make an appearance! And what an appearance it will be haha. How will she turn his stable world upside down? Will this intelligent woman make a miscalculated effect on him? Will her quick-witted mind be any match of his? And is she going to be liked by our solitary physicist?
I have made a small cover art for the story. Check my instagram page: @shamyenthusiast :) You may follow me there for future updates/announcements.
New chapters will be updated weekly on Mondays! I hope to adhere to this schedule (forgive me if I don't)
Without further ado, let us see the next chapter unravelling.
/ Disclaimer: I own nothing of The Big Bang Theory. This is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended. /
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~ Chapter 2 ~
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."
~W Shakespeare
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Driiing! Driiing! The adjacent church bells rang animatedly on a chilly Sunday morning. A simultaneous tintinnabulation that hung on the air like a noose to a particular fellow who was quickly passing by the exuberant cheers and echoes of rejoicement. With bees buzzing in the air and the bells ding-donging, it was yet the sound of someone getting married.
The two newest partners were leaving the doors of the chapel, hand in hand with flashing rings on their fingers and blissful mirth and smiles on their youthful faces. It almost seemed like the perfect day for an extravagant wedding; the cool crisp air was pleasant, birds chirped an orchestra of sweet romance, the trees were glade-green, a pageant of floral smells floated in the spring air, and the sun beamed brilliantly down on the happy couple like a spotlight, awarding them as if they were the next people gratifying the world with their gift.
Nuptial or betrothal? What interesting minds do these people adapt in thinking it'd give their piteous race a redemption.
The east wind chimed, blowing a swift breeze towards the soigné man as he held onto his trilby hat and long coat. Everyone seemed to have the same 'Sunday' face whilst he held the same stern, unmoved eyes.
Poppp! Someone behind him clamorously opened a bottle of champagne followed by cheers, startling the obscured fellow. The faster he tried to walk past the gaudy crowd, the hurrahs and laughter however seemed to only get louder in his ears.
He mentally noted that he is to find an alternative route later– a much more suitable one. Much to his dread, the usual road down the S.Greenwood Avenue was under temporary construction; he is now forced to take the sidewalk down Oakdale St., exposed to the unfamiliar, foreboding environment.
To walk through such massive crowds was evidently dreary for him; all sorts of airborne pathogens were in his midst. Nevertheless, he wants- no- needs to go to work. Thus, with precautionary measures, he made assured that he'd keep his distance.
With a whip of his wrist lifting towards his torso, he wearily eyed his Geneve watch. 10:45 a.m. He raised an eyebrow.
A marital reception at this hour? Interesting. He wouldn't be surprised nonetheless that many–how they'd say– "love birds" would jump to elopement in any given opportunity. That idea sent him shaking his head innately.
To be banded together for life with a person was beyond him. If that thought wasn't scary enough, the idea of written papers testifying to it was even more horrific.
Out of nowhere, a bridesmaid faintly brushed his left arm with her elbow, causing him to withdraw instinctively. "Excuse me." He muttered brusquely, tipping his head in a hasty manner.
The young lady looked at him in wonder, her foe-like eyes lit up. Opening her lips to say hello to him, her smile instantly faded as he didn't turn nor stop. Her and her friends behind her stared at him, their eyes curiously following the gentleman as he brushed past.
On the other side of the street, the busy, buzzing avenue of Pasadena was well festive and very much alive; people going about during their holiday, walking past him from left and right.
The diners had their signs turned towards the window with bold letters written "Open", the local gardener was out watering a horde of dandelions beside old buildings, and old lads were sitting outside the store benches–cards in their wrinkled hands as they played a round of bridge.
Round and round, he circumvented the antiquated cathedral. How unfortunate was he to pass this place of superfluous laughter and songs.
With his exceptional hearing and keen eyesight, he heard people clamoring about and watched sudden movement of rocks trembling on the cemented pavement under the weight of running high heels.
"Catch it!"
"No, it's mine!"
"Leave it, Martha!"
"Hey, watch it!"
The light-pitched voices, the effeminate cry of femmes giggled and squealed right closely behind him. With a step forward, his leather shoe abruptly caught onto a soft material, pressing down hard onto the ground.
Crunch. A train of stunned and disbelieved gasps resounded, and he stopped in his tracks, knowing well he must be involved in this certain part of the jubilant event. He tilted his head to see the unknown matter under the heel of his foot.
Lo and behold, his sharp eyes halted to a well decorated, bridal bouquet crushed perfectly below his footwear. Turning around to the staggered and shocked dames, he gave them a half-hearted apologetic smile (a very trying yet not so good one at that) and wordlessly turned on his heels, walking away.
A stranger ruining an orthodox tradition of a bouquet toss–that dated back to 1800s England–was finally something he could agree to. Even though he despised the meddling of old customs and etiquettes, he did momentarily enjoy dabbling this ludicrous ritual. One that was laughably considered good luck in hopes of finding that special someone.
How fascinating it is that people seemed to have stronger feelings towards the mere, flimsy chance of searching in said "chemical imbalance" for one's fulfilment. It was intriguing to him that they rather pursue that more than the factuals of the real world or sustained data with hard evidence. The probability over the certainty; humanity was failing hitherto at this rate.
And so, he walked on with a small, satisfactory grin, while the ladies were left behind with nonplussed expressions.
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Finally, there it was. He had arrived at his awaited destination.
"Good day, Dr. Cooper," greeted old Giuseppe, a cleaner on the campus, pushing his cart of tools. "And to you, sir," came the soft, refined baritone reply as he tipped his head politely. Giving a silent message of needing to complete his cleaning duties, he proffered a gentle nod with Dr. Cooper's gesture mirroring his. Courteously assuring the elderly man's safeness in his departure, he thereafter turned towards his place of destination, knowing full well of tending to his own obligations.
A calmed, peaceful breath left the man's lips as he gazed at the familiar place that stood mightily high and proud several feet away. Caltech University, his second home and his first place of sanctuary.
Stuffing his hands in his coat pockets, he moved towards the facility.
"Ah! There you are, Cooper! We've been patiently waiting for you." President Siebert exclaimed, his arms spanning wide as if giving a grandeur gesticulation with his happy words. His jolly tone puzzled the physicist as he walked in the lobby, giving a double glance at their beaming, radiant president of the university. Waiting? Dr. Cooper raised a brow.
Huh. That's quite interesting. There were other employees who happened to be in the university earlier than him in this timing, and during a weekend no less? He guessed today was the rare time of this appreciative yet supposedly expected attendance.
"Today's a day of fresh renewal of bait! Clifford, fetch me a cup of coffee, would you son? And don't forget to bring a warm bagel. We ought to cheer on this glorious day! A toast of wine can never be too early for a splendid moment like this, I say! This must certainly be Caltech's spring blessing." President Seibert continued jovially, showing his moves around the office which only confirmed to the physicist yet another set of skills his senior was lacking.
"What is the occasion?" The unfazed man inquired, taking off his coat and neatly hanging on his chair once they both reached Cooper's office.
His unshared office was the sanctuary in which he made pleasant memories with his dark matter research, plowing through a myriad of days and nights of reaching his discovery. It was a very plain, unembellished room. Not a sight of a vibrant color was present.
However, everything was indisputably set in place; the books were structured alphabetically, layers and layers of documents were meticulously labeled in categories, window drapes were tugged on the sides with a ribbon each, and his top hat was now hanging on the wooden stand. Lastly, a silver nameplate was perfectly situated on the top of his dark mahogany desk, radiating his name and initials with a bright glimmer: Sheldon L. Cooper, Ph.D., Sc.D, M.D, M.S, B.S.
"We've been awarded with an accolade and recognition this year! Those Norwegians scoundrels are impressed by your work– notably your project in string theory. Now now, let's not get the wrong idea though. Mother science isn't always a competition, but to have the folks in Whitford university doubt the brains and geniuses on our side, ha! This would be enough to remind 'em not to get too cocky. Well… after all, we've got someone to do that for us already." He commented, patting Dr. Cooper's back humorously. The younger man jolted in response at the unwelcomed touch, giving the elder an incomprehensible look.
It's an immensely droll and curious way to provoke dry musings; the deliberation of the Norwegians volunteering in combat duty on the Nazi side, to thereupon being garrisoned by German troops. Now these rapscallions are the ones continuing in granting honours to recipients. Although, the first Nobel prizes in physics and chemistry were established in Stockholm in 1901, and so was in Kristiania (now Oslo), Norway.
In its entirety, Dr. Cooper take on the past battles before him was an extensive one. As the power laureate himself, he thought that those individuals were quite remarkable.
"And of course, we couldn't have done it without you, doctor. The future of both physics and this institute will reach bigger and bigger heights! I'm looking forward for the next generation to follow in the footsteps of our big superstar."
For a split second, Dr. Cooper opened his mouth to impart a supernova joke but immediately restrained himself. Rajesh Ramayan Koothrappali– an immigrant from India and currently one of the teammates in the department– would be displeased to hear this.
As an astrophysicist, not only did Rajesh value the stars in his work in the field, Cooper could already imagine his reaction to the president's last sentence; the foreigner would gape to hear his beloved 'sparkling celeste' being used to describe the him. The man who was the opposite of 'bright' and 'luminous'.
"So, what is your agenda?" The grinning man questioned, leaning uninvitingly on the physicist's table.
"To continue in carrying on some important work, but it seems to me that this important work is being interrupted far longer than I would hope for." Dr. Cooper wearily watched the short hand ticking to the next minute. His throat felt dry and his hands began to feel clammy.
As if on cue, the elder jumped on his feet with an "of course" expression. "Ah, sorry to keep you, Dr. Cooper. I take it that you're busy. Best luck to you, the triumph of theoretical physics is in your hands."
Giving a slight bow, president Seibert turned on his heels, leaving his office. With that, the scientist sat on his chair, releasing a breath. The clock ticking made him uncomfortable again as he was reminded of the four minutes that went past his usual schedule.
He closed his eyes before counting to five. Alright, it's time to get back to work. Opening his steely blue eyes, he displayed a folder and a leather booklet on his desk and faintly loosened his necktie.
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What are we set on earth for? Say, to toil –
Nor seek to leave thy tending of the vines,
For all the heat o' the day, till it declines,
And Death's mild curfew shall from work assoil.
– Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Rat-tat-tat.
A series of short, sharp taps sounded by the firm knocks on his door. Clock was ticking towards near late afternoon, and he was currently standing in front of a wide blackboard when he peered up.
"Hey pal." A stuffy-nosed, nasal voice called out from the entrance.
With an appreciative clearing of his throat, Cooper was satisfied to have someone abide by his protocol regarding barging into one's room. That's why this person was a worthy companion– apart from many other reasons–since they first met.
"You may come in, Leonard." He spoke as he rhythmically tapped the chalk twice on the highest corner of the board.
"You seemed spiffy today.. even though you're in this confined place during a wonderful day outside." His short friend hoaxed with irony, standing idly by the doorway. He certainly knew how Dr. Cooper had thought of such ways like this to be well spent in weekly holidays. By burying himself in those mysterious, deep thoughts and that giant brain of his, that is.
Leonard Hofstadter was his age. They both enjoyed discussing scientific matters and daily politics; both were valued scientists in their breakthroughs and respective fields; and both were gladdened by each other's respectable companionship.
Well, most of the time. Or even hardly?
The ostensible ego and pride of Dr. Cooper could be difficult to tolerate, and rather trying as well. And that's where the similarities between them ended.
Many people willed themselves to keep away from his friend's presence, some even quarrelled with him. Yet the theoretical physicist was no easy rival to defeat. Because he does not submit in surrender. 'Yield' does not exist in his dictionary, nor the symbolism of a white flag.
Those were qualities that Dr. Hofstadter lacked. If it were to be put differently, they were the Buster Keaton and Harry Houdini of Pasadena. Two different worlds colliding in the same universe; different people arriving in similar interests.
Leonard Hofstadter was an experimental physicist. His black, thick-rimmed glasses always slipped from his nose, brown locks were brushed away from his forehead, and his 5 feet 5 inches height made the dark haired man look like a giant in comparison.
His easy-going yet timid and awkward personality unexpectedly but perfectly coalesced with the bold, strong personality of the other. Outspoken and shy. Tall and short. Conjecture and demonstration. A hard man and a yes man. What odd partners they were. And yes, Leonard also viewed Cooper as an oddball with interesting eccentricities and peculiar behavior. Although, he can't deny the fondness he had for the other man; a brother he never had.
"Sinuses are still clogged?" The taller man muttered, after Leonard's series of small gasps and whistling sounds coming from his nasal. "And the spring season comes with its bad package: dust allergen." The experimental physicist nodded, scratching his nose in exasperation.
"Have you seen the president this morning?"
Cooper shrugged with indifference. "I could hardly not have seen him."
"Good grief, I'd say he's the happiest out of all of us."
It was then when the laureate squinted at his peer with an amused look.
"Leonard, we both know very well that you're jutting. Especially this morning when you were spraying that ghastly flowery perfume on your collar. By the way, you should change your choice of aroma."
"It isn't flowery! I-I have already told you, it's herbal." Hofstadter exclaimed, slightly pink in the face and touching his collar hesitantly. "…Or wood. Or leaves. You get my point!"
Cooper nodded, unknowingly receiving a twinkle glare coming from the spectacles below him.
"Besides, don't act like you aren't feeding off the praises from other people. Gee, you've got a letter from the head of the department as well." Leonard squinted at him before rolling his eyes.
"And Dr. Seibert."
That unintentional comment made the experimental physicist let out a sigh.
"And Dr. Seibert."
Dusting his hands off from the chalk dust, Dr. Cooper grabbed the hand sanitizer sitting on the shelf and rubbed his hands thoroughly.
"I've known you for seven years. Even though you aren't showing like the others now, I can undoubtedly see your chin up high, standing so tall and mighty. Showing that you know more without saying it, and putting everyone in their place."
The said man blinked at the statement, opening his lips to speak in a matter-of-fact tone, "But, I've always been as I am ever since. I don't think that my pride never wavered, my dear friend. You know how I think of 'change'. That, I do not do."
Right, Leonard thought to himself. This was Sheldon Cooper he was talking to.
"Anyways," he cleared his throat, "You saw me this morning, didn't bother to come say hello?"
The other man now turned his back on him, speculating a large hand-drawn sketch of the light bosons branching to axion particles on the wall.
"Mm, you know the reason."
Yes, you're busy.
Always.
His short companion blew out air, rocking his heels to and fro as he, with deep scrutiny, watched the preoccupied doctor moving frequently around the room.
"Ahem, so, are you going to attend the celebration party tonight? Everyone's been so tense lately… working hard to raise funds for research that may be too costly. It ultimately seems like you're the only one who's still enjoying the load– You've been up your game."
"No."
"Uh, pardon me?"
"I'm not coming."
The curt reply made Leonard furrow his thick eyebrows.
"Why not?"
Dr. Cooper glanced at his watch, flicked off a tiny speck of dust from his broad shoulder, and straightened his tie.
"I have a date tonight with supersymmetry. As well as– taking a warm bath, drinking my nightly cocoa, reading the nightly newspaper, and going to bed at the exact alleged timing. Therefore, I shall not attend the celebration party." He steadily elucidated, emphasizing the endpoint of the sentence with a pen click.
"But you should! We all need some rest. We all need a break, a brief one even. You can meet some people."
Yet, that effort only drew a mere scoff from the lofty man.
"And what? To mingle with people from MIT? Or perhaps even worse, geologists? You jest, surely. "
"Oh come now, you should really ease it on those poor fellows." Dr. Hofstadter always had an understanding of his friend's distaste on those certain fields and lower degrees. Yet he himself was not spared from Cooper's condescending patronage, incessant corrections, and superiority over his own work.
"So you are not coming?"
"Indeed." The theoretical scientist said without a single forethought, showing evident disinterest as he carried on.
Any case, Leonard had positively given up the ghost by now.
"Quick question though."
"Is it a good question?"
"Well, it depends."
"Go on, I'm all ears."
"I've read into some studies the other day, yet I am in need of clearance– how large are the long-distance QCD corrections to direct dark matter-nucleus scattering?" Leonard asked, adorably raising his chin high with swagger confidence.
The inquiry made Cooper pleasantly smile, crossing his arms and spurring himself to look at the other scientist in the eyes for the first time since the whole conversation.
"The cross-sections for all processes are being precisely calculated after the released model file. In my prediction, higher-order QCD corrections to Higgs couplings with quark pairs are included."
"And.. Point-neutron radii, which are more uncertain, can be tested by measuring weak radii, I suppose?"
"Of course. The coefficients of the effective Lagrangian describe the interaction of WIMPS with nucleons, and are extracted automatically."
"To constrain a particular BSM operator model!"
After the quick exchanges of words between them, and the simultaneous conveyance in finishing each other's sentences, they both grinned.
Shaking his head with a gentle chuckle, Leonard thought to himself: Good God. They really do need the touch of a woman.
It was then when the sound of the wooden floorboards creaked under an approaching weight. Footsteps which promptly echoed from the hall outside, belonging to a Barry Kripke who was leaving a trail of his vexatious serenade:
"Evwey night I hope and pway,
A dream wover will come my way~
A gal to hold in my arms,
And know the magic of her charms~
'Cause I want- yeah yeah,
A girl to call- yeah yeah,
My ownn~
I want a dream wover,
So I don't have to dream awoneee!"
The two friends gave a split-second glance towards each other, apprehensively counting down to when the singing man will pop in front of their faces.
"Oi, fellas! Are ya weady to jingle mingle with the singles this evening?" Came Kripke's upbeat rhotacism, their co-worker swinging by the office as they predicted.
"Sure," Leonard laughed, earning a surprising, painful 'atta-pal' clap on the back from him. "How 'bout ya, Cooper? It's about time that you find yourself a date." The galling new visitor elbowed the air suggestively. Dr. Cooper's lips formed a thin line, attempting a forced smile. "I have."
"You have?"
"Good heavens, he haven't." Hofstadter shook his head, pointing at the papers on the shelves with his chin. "Not the idea you're thinking."
"Eh, I figured." With a curious eye above his dark circles, Barry pushed on.
"I've got a cousin who traveled from Sweden, visiting town. I say together we hook our success as baits, throw our fishing rods, and reel some ladies in." Came the rough cackling as Kripke winked blithely at Cooper, displeasing the other man.
Dr. Cooper only gave him a frown of chastism. "That would be an abhorrent, pure waste of time. My energy and effort is assuredly past the raging biological urges you uphold, Dr. Kripke. My brain is not a tool for useless matters." He resolutely shot back with a tap on his temple for indication. "Also, to do the tedious norm of taking one's hand to dance, listening to disarranged synthesized symphony of chords, and to be around people and minstrels, are wearisome. The three things I strongly dislike in a single sentence."
"By golly, why so uptight? You need to loosen up, have a drink to smooth all those rough edges of yours, and stop being such an old man." Barry snorted with a long whistle being drawn out in effect. "Let's drink to your achievement, drink to our hearty gain!" The noisy plasma scientist latched onto his stout friend, spinning their now blurry-like bodies around the room. This made the theoretical physicist uneasy about the safety of his furniture, opening and closing his mouth whilst holding his index finger in the air.
"We shall go! Sing with our comrades, dance with the ladies, and oh, how high we will take them." Almost falling back onto his haunches, Leonard yelped, clinging onto his glasses.
"Then walk them home and bid them farewell! At the end of night, we might be kissed– or even perchance, accompany them till the next morning!" Barry galloped across the room, shaking the dust that was not from the room, yet happened to be seeping from the shaggy, gray suit of his. "I bet my only dollar in my pocket that you have not kissed a woman in your life, mister cross. Not even a peck."
This caused the taller man to press his lips together.
"Kiss?" Dr. Cooper gave an incredulous remark. "As in.. having anything to do with someone's lips which detains all those germs and bacteria swimming around like worms?" With his change of tone, Kripke stood there, already regretting having this conversation with the man.
"Never been sullied? My, my, outrageous. Dr. Cooper is Pasadena's well known laureate and acclaimed genius." A scrawny, hairy pair of hands aloft waved about between them, following a synonymous cough of guffaw escaping Barry's throat. "Yet not once have he shared such an endowment! So pristine, eh? A genuinely untainted man who lacks our thoughts? I'd say an absolute Miss Priss! A chucklesome genteel and goody-two-shoes! Or should I recounter with 'age-old bore?' Ah, the pity, you do not know the taste of angel's lips– The heaven you miss! What man or scientist does not know?"
"Gosh, it looks like the weather is getting a bit cloudy today-" Leonard interjected, feeble in attempting to divert the conversation. Nonetheless, Cooper beat him to it.
"Pardon me, gentleman, as I add– however, I see that it is a sheer wonder how you process mathematical ideas in those flimsy, electrical impulses or said chemical signals of yours. Having a behavior akin to ill-mannered delinquency everyday with every young woman you see, you must easily recall all the number of times you visited the Human Resources department. If not, my good memory can assist. So allow me to remind you... be careful tonight, Kripke."
Dr. Cooper took a step, staring down at the man with undeterred intensity.
"Because it may possibly be the last time someone refers to you as 'doctor.'"
Both of the other men in the room blankly blinked; Leonard with his hands fiddling together and Barry silently scowling at the other man as he pretended to take no notice of the subtle threat in losing his title.
Darnation, he was right. And he hated it.
With a strained grin, Barry gave a nod under the eyes of the stern man. "Certainly, doctor. You made it clear, a well point fair and square." The next second, his face quirked to a mocking pout, "Oh boy, we'll miss ya though. I've got to head somewhere, until again soon."
However, Dr. Cooper did not register the malicious sarcasm behind it.
Leonard did not want to leave with Kripke, but time was inching towards twenty minutes past four, and he needed to make haste for the party. He certainly was not going to wear his work clothes; in the least he must look presentable.
"Bye buddy. I only have an hour, see you tomorrow?" Leonard said.
"Mhm." All was his reply as the dark-haired man was back scribbling away.
With that, his friend exited the room, following behind the plasma analyst. Their whispered voices were quietly chatting as they walked down the hall. Thanks to his perfect hearing, nonetheless it echoed through Cooper's ears.
"Wacking Fweak."
"I mean, come on, Barry, this is Cooper we're talking about."
A scornful snicker bounced from the walls. "Oh yes, the wonely dingbat Cooper, who repels people like a negative magnet with the snobby nature of his. An absolute pain in the arse wherever he goes as he pleases, I'd say. He dares to rat me off to Human Resources? Eidetic, he claims. I swear in the name of Konrad Zuse's Z1, it is hologwaphic memowee!"
"Not quite what he meant, I think. He probably signify that you'd get yourself into trouble just fine, without help from his side."
Suddenly, the hall was filled with uncoated blasphemy.
"Hmph, at least he is doing us all a favor by not joining. We've got enough of his pwesence at work. The poor bastard. Wonely, wonely, Cooper."
That put a halt to the theoretical scientist's movement for a second, his chalk hovering over the blackboard. The voices then stopped, and he blinked from his trance.
In the next moment, he went back to scribbling.
.
But his mind was absent.
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.
The words usually go over his head. Snide comments have never fazed the physicist before.
He stooped over a puddle of water, looking back at his fragmented reflection with his recollected overcoat framing his sturdy shoulders. The accumulation of liquid, he presumed, was formed by pooling in a depression on the floor's surface. He was to be on his way out, locking his office door and catching the 5:15 pm train back home.
The sunset was already tinting the sky with orange emulsion like a brush on painted canvas, its color seeping through the windows and painting him in its tinge. He originally was checking for the source of the murky matter, but now he was caught looking at the person in its mirrored aqua.
The words poured in, jumbling in the center of his mind.
The words that appeared from the storage in his mind. The words that started with "L".
Lonely. The corner of his lips upturned. Kripke was simply envious, he thought to himself. All of them are envious– those who pronounced the phrase with his name in a single syntax.
Because it is this feeling, he cannot feel.
His neurons were disengaged with his heart.
To an individual, the recondite of this abstract can be difficult to understand. It was as if his vagus nerve is disjunct from his beating center in his bosom. The blood that was rushing through his veins was a meagre life source rather than gravity of his spirit. His sentiment. His affection.
Thus, he deflects the gloomy mood of emptiness and lonesome sorrow. He sets off track from the customary way of life that others walk on. Or the desire that other males rooted themselves deep into. To live without chasing after the conventional path of happiness, it was only he.
He was truly settled in a content life– his admiration for the laws of physics never spent.
Loneliness.
He won't fall for it. He knew.
It is this which was the driving force behind this entity.
The second form beginning with "L":
Love.
"Cooper." He muttered under his breath. "Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle." The soft-spoken quote of a French proverb dissolved into the air.
In the midst, a sudden call of his name made the scientist spin around and snapped out of his reverie.
It was Mrs. Betty Willow.
"Good sir!" The university's administrator spoke, her breath shallow, catching up to where he stood.
"Mrs. Willow," He acknowledged, a bit surprised by her sudden presence. He thought he was the last person on campus.
The plump, chubby woman wiped her brow that was glistening a droplet of sweat. She was a lower-ranked secretary in the university under the Senior Management Team. In spite of her position, her tasks weren't as straightforward.
She'd run here and there, doing all the dirty work that the higher-ups requested her to do. Whether it was to relay messages, to help professors in carrying their things up the great flight of stairs, or even to provide hot beverages to the employees.
It was only he who she seemed to have an unsaid affinity for.
Perhaps it's because he never once invocated her for any errands.
Well, foremost, he did not like the idea of someone else touching his cup or mixing the contents in his refreshment. No one was allowed to prepare his fount of nourishment whatsoever.
Her eyes gleamed with tenderness like the genial look of a grandmother, making the doctor look at her for a good second, his gaze softening from being reminded of someone.
The person he had not forgotten. Someone once special whom was held dear in his life.
As quick as the thought of the familiar face came, it went in an instant.
He noticed her gray hair was made up differently, and after heedlessly complimenting her clean, fixed bun, she gave a hearty chuckle. "My, what keen eyes you have. That's very kind of you, good sir." Her aged smile brightened, slightly returning his own as he shyly looked on, his gaze reaching over her head. She was the only person who addressed him with such a title.
Past the wrinkles around her eyes, her demeanor emitted a child-like youth; full of spirit and cheerfulness. If it weren't for the strands of white hair lucidly presenting itself on her forehead, she'd look almost half her age.
"I am so glad that I have caught you in time," she cried.
Her quick movements led her yellow dress-shoes to splash on the puddle, spurring the gentleman to grimaced at the unsanitary fluid to splash between them.
After a series of inhales and exhales, the old woman handed him a brown portfolio.
"If I may inquire," he questioned, turning the folder on its front, "What is this?"
The big letters splayed out across the top center: "New Hire Orientation Checklist."
"These are the paperwork for the new academics in our faculty. Everyone in the department received it."
"Why hadn't you seen me earlier?"
The hesitant reply was already telling.
"The president had thought that you were not up for this kind of work. Not the genial sort or the people-person. But perhaps he changed his mind as he said that the winner shall meet the new doctors."
Dr. Cooper could picture it with little effort.
"Meet?" They have never before done a lot of work for recent staff members.
His focus was still on the portfolio before him yet she nodded as she answered,
"Yes, one of them is not just any doctor, good sir. They say that person is very respectable in their field. Extremely accounted for by their late research."
"I see." This piqued his interest.
His forefinger and thumb brushed against the texture of the well formulated pages, flipping through black-and-white pictures with the names and listed information for each new face. One after the other.
Who must it be?
Suddenly, a paper clip fell, and the strong uptake breeze of wind immediately picked something from the folder, slipping through his hands. He could not see what it was as it flew high up above him. Trying to grasp the object, he and Mrs. Willow moved about, reaching for it. Yet the thin material sneakily floated past them.
With his legs crouching down and his palm carefully laid out just a few inches above the floor, the moving object fell right in the space between his fingers.
The small matter now was beheld in front of their inquisitive eyes, displaying a black and white picture.
But they could not see the person inside the thin paper as the paper had regrettably landed in the puddle from earlier moment. Now the picture was all damp, dark and discolored, sinking underneath the surface of water.
In utmost curiosity, he lifted the folder on his left hand closer underneath his nose, and scanned the profile with the missing face in bold letters:
Dr. F. Fowler.
Who was he?
"Have you met the fellow?"
"I don't quite know. I too have not seen him yet, sir."
His eyes lingered on the unknown face with the given name.
"The council is kindly soliciting for your time on meeting with the new specialist; they shall appreciate you as the representative."
"And it is I whom they choose." He confirmed with utmost marvel, meeting her gaze.
"To be forthright with you, good sir... not all the council were open to having you as the temporary front man." She coughed. "Mr. Greene was consulted for tomorrow's leave."
His eyes narrowed, face buckled with befuddlement.
"And why so?"
This only cornered her into a much more uncomfortable situation as her coughs were now frequent.
"If I may politely reiterate, they don't take you as the type for 'pleasant first impressions.' Especially so for the imprint of Caltech."
This sentence affirmed to him that folks were fragile and too weak to acquiesce his criticisms and rational judgment.
Upon returning the paper, Dr. Cooper thanked Mrs. Willow.
"Then I understand it is tomorrow I shall meet him."
"The guest shall arrive early; we received telegram two days before. I, again, apologize for this late notice, good sir. Dear me– it is getting late. You ought to walk safely now!"
"Yes, ma'am, I shall."
The sun was now hiding behind the hills, taking away the last of the noon light from the sky.
"Good evening." He bid with a tip on his hat, turning on his heels and walking out.
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The sound of his heeled shoes left light rustles.
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