The First Time I Met X

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The first time I met X was a rainy day in the centre of town. A Thursday. The day I was born. Stepping out of work and taking shelter beneath a tree trying to roll a cigarette, I looked up and saw her on the opposite side of the street struggling with an umbrella. The wind was blowing her around like a ragdoll, and upon failing to open it, she threw it to the floor before kicking it into the road. Stamping her feet, she tried tying her hair into a bun but the wind wasn’t done with her yet, and every time she came close, a sudden gust snatched the band from her fingers before tossing it out of her grasp. Watching her as she shrieked, she reached into her handbag and withdrew an inhaler, and when she’d finished sucking in two big lungfuls of gas, promptly slumped back against the window of the clothes store behind her. I knew nothing of her, and yet as she looked up to find me staring, a connection was made. It wasn’t love at first sight. Truth be told there was something about her that unnerved me. It was a glimpse of that temper of hers. A temper that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. And yet there was something else, some kind of melancholic ether mirroring my own that caused me to approach. Cutting through the stationary cars that were waiting for the lights to change, the rain had made the mascara around her eyes run, and when she looked up at me, she resembled a drowned panda. She was in a right sorry state, and even though she eyed me with suspicion, she stuck out her bottom lip to emphasise her sadness as well as to evoke a little pity. Kneeling down, I offered her my cigarette, and after studying my features, she slyly took it from my fingers. Without knowing what I was doing, I used the cuff of my jacket to wipe away the beads of rain from her brow. Such an intimate act to be shared between two strangers, and yet she didn’t stop me. As the rain fell as if it were a sin not to, I felt myself getting back to my feet, and yet at that same moment, she took hold of my hand and brought it to her lips. With her eyes on mine, she breathed warm air onto it through her nostrils, and even though we’d barely spoken, it was as if the two of us were already lovers. Lovers who’d spent their lives travelling to a moment of time that had been waiting for them since the creation of time itself. Smiling at me, she asked if I was hungry, and after helping her to her feet, she linked her arm with mine, and together we set off through the wind and rain in search of food.

A Journal for Damned Lovers UK

A Journal for Damned Lovers US

Anthology UK / Anthology US

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