kittyelizabeth
Scorn swelled from my words like thorns on a vine. I waited for them to pierce him, make him cringe. His grin fell to a scowl as he moved toward me. I opened my mouth to shout at him some more when his hand flew to my throat. My words mutated into a painful cough.
I looked up into his eyes in a horrified silence, unable to breathe.
I must have hit my head pretty hard because his tattoo was still a glowing, golden swan.
“We’re closed,” I told him, mesmerized by the tattoo.
The young man said nothing as he took a step toward me.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said meeting his eyes, “but we’re closed-you can’t be here.” The swan merged into silver and back to gold, swimming along his bare chest; his ivory-soft skin, glossed with rain.
Peering behind him, I saw the storm. The streetlights illuminated the shower as it spilled over our tiny strip of old buildings and cramped sidewalks. Beyond this street there were no lights, no shops, just darkness rising over the hills.
When I returned my attention to the room, the man exhaled a smiled, as if amused
It was as if his tattoo was transforming. A golden swan, merging into silver and back to gold, swimming along his bare chest.
“We’re closed,” I told him, still mesmerized by the swan.
The young man said nothing as he took a step toward me.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said meeting his eyes, “but we’re closed-you can’t be here.”
He said nothing as he pushed his dark hair behind his ears and smiled. His soft-ivory skin was glossed with rain. I hadn’t even realized it was raining. I glanced behind him and watched the rain for a moment.
He had dark hair and a strange tattoo on his chest. With my eyes shut tight, I pressed my trembling hand to my forehead. How could my palm still hold the iciness of the marble tiles yet be sticky with sweat? When I looked back to the room, there was only a slight difference in my vision - the room was still odd. Darker than before. Spinning a little too. But I could see the man more clearly now. The man was actually younger than I first thought-about my age. But I must have hit my head pretty hard because his tattoo was still glowing.
The diner had closed an hour ago. The marble tiles were hard and cold beneath me but it felt so good just to sit there in peace. The soft swish-swoosh melody of the dishwasher behind the counter, the overhead fan and its gentle song, the emptiness of being alone. I looked forward to this moment every day.. the silence. So when the bell clung above the front entrance, I nearly swallowed my heart. I flew up from the floor, smacking my head against the counter. After blinking through the tears it was if someone had slipped sunglasses over my eyes. the room looked like an aged photograph; I could barely see the man that stood just five feet in front of me.