Here's a little more that I've gone over from the story I put on here a few weeks ago. Enjoy!
Ethan noticed that the coffee had shot right through him, and he needed to use the bathroom. He hated to have to leave at this moment, especially when there were so many unanswered questions. Who knew would what happen when he was in the bathroom. Maybe a friend would walk in and recognize Jane Doe, possibly revealing a name or at least a clue to who this person was. Ethan walked past her to the back of the caf where the bathroom was and began to empty himself. As he stood in the stall, staring at a flier for a Dry Cleaning shop a block over, he realized that he'd at least get a chance to see her face when he came back. Some of his curiosity would be appeased. Maybe enough for him to move on, finish his crossword and embark home. Perhaps.
Ethan finished and washed his hands, taking a moment to check his hair. Why on Earth am I so nervous right now? He could feel his heart pumping and his hands were shaking as he frantically dried them off. Ethan looked up from the sink to stared at himself as if psyching himself up. But for what? It's not like I'm asking this woman out on a date, I'm walking past her. Get a grip, Ethan. He opened the door. Ethan took a bold step outward and turned to face the woman, the booth and the world. Yet, to his surprise he didn't' see the face of his Jane Doe, but rather her backside. She was standing next to his booth, but he couldn't see what she was doing. Ethan furled his brow in curiosity and approached her.
"Excuse me, can I help you?" he had barely finished his sentence when he noticed in her hands was his black journal, opened to the entry he had just written: the entry about her.
Blood rushed to his face, which was great timing because he had just called attention to himself. Aside from his apparent embarrassment of the situation, he found himself feeling a bit angry and annoyed. After all it was his personal property and what right did she have to read it. Then he remembered he did leave it out in the open for the entire world to see. Perhaps deep inside of him there was a seventh grade boy, coy and very sheepish, that was just a little afraid to walk across the lunchroom and talk to the pretty girl at the popular table. He had come along way from that pimple-faced raga-muffin that he used to be, all those years ago. Today, he just felt removed from his comfort zone. A woman that could do that to him deserver further investigation.
Ethan snapped out of his flashback just as the woman was turning around to face him. She had taken off her had while he was in the bathroom so her dark brown hair flowed down, resting comfortably on her shoulders. As she was turning, the sun washed over her face, igniting her light blue eyes. His first impulse was just to gaze into them. They were so soft; so inviting. He'd follow them wherever they told him to go. Ethan then had a chance to see her whole face. Against the soft glow of the morning sun, her face was pale which brought out the fullness of her red lips.
"This must be yours," she interjected.
Ethan noticed that the coffee had shot right through him, and he needed to use the bathroom. He hated to have to leave at this moment, especially when there were so many unanswered questions. Who knew would what happen when he was in the bathroom. Maybe a friend would walk in and recognize Jane Doe, possibly revealing a name or at least a clue to who this person was. Ethan walked past her to the back of the caf where the bathroom was and began to empty himself. As he stood in the stall, staring at a flier for a Dry Cleaning shop a block over, he realized that he'd at least get a chance to see her face when he came back. Some of his curiosity would be appeased. Maybe enough for him to move on, finish his crossword and embark home. Perhaps.
Ethan finished and washed his hands, taking a moment to check his hair. Why on Earth am I so nervous right now? He could feel his heart pumping and his hands were shaking as he frantically dried them off. Ethan looked up from the sink to stared at himself as if psyching himself up. But for what? It's not like I'm asking this woman out on a date, I'm walking past her. Get a grip, Ethan. He opened the door. Ethan took a bold step outward and turned to face the woman, the booth and the world. Yet, to his surprise he didn't' see the face of his Jane Doe, but rather her backside. She was standing next to his booth, but he couldn't see what she was doing. Ethan furled his brow in curiosity and approached her.
"Excuse me, can I help you?" he had barely finished his sentence when he noticed in her hands was his black journal, opened to the entry he had just written: the entry about her.
Blood rushed to his face, which was great timing because he had just called attention to himself. Aside from his apparent embarrassment of the situation, he found himself feeling a bit angry and annoyed. After all it was his personal property and what right did she have to read it. Then he remembered he did leave it out in the open for the entire world to see. Perhaps deep inside of him there was a seventh grade boy, coy and very sheepish, that was just a little afraid to walk across the lunchroom and talk to the pretty girl at the popular table. He had come along way from that pimple-faced raga-muffin that he used to be, all those years ago. Today, he just felt removed from his comfort zone. A woman that could do that to him deserver further investigation.
Ethan snapped out of his flashback just as the woman was turning around to face him. She had taken off her had while he was in the bathroom so her dark brown hair flowed down, resting comfortably on her shoulders. As she was turning, the sun washed over her face, igniting her light blue eyes. His first impulse was just to gaze into them. They were so soft; so inviting. He'd follow them wherever they told him to go. Ethan then had a chance to see her whole face. Against the soft glow of the morning sun, her face was pale which brought out the fullness of her red lips.
"This must be yours," she interjected.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
it's been entirely too long since we've spoken.