Requiem Supernova
some people never change, they just stay the same way
Suzan looked at her wristwatch; it showed noon. She figured Ella’s lectures will have finished by four; so that gives her three hours to take a quick nap and an hour to eat, maybe something with liquor in it, before she heads to her own lectures.
Ella fidgeted in her seat; the material the dress was made of was too thin, she felt uncomfortable. She knew people were watching her, it was a radical change of her usual attire, and people noticed. She was complimented a couple of times. All that time Ella though that maybe she was supposed to act more like Suzan. Maybe she had to be more open minded and outgoing instead of burying her head all the time in books. The wheels in her head were spinning million miles per second. To be more like Suzan? Or not? Ella bit her bottom lip when the bell rang. She had made her decision.
The weather was quite lovely that afternoon when Ella took the usual route home. The wind blew lightly, lifting her dress above her knees. She pushed it down a couple of times, trying to balance it with heavy books in her hand. Just as she was about to reach the building, Ella lost control of the weight in her arms and the books scattered all over the pavement.
Brendon pushed the tiny button on the automatic thingy that locks the car door and headed towards building which seemed to have been painted by a high school dropout on crack. As he walked closer, he saw a girl in a familiar dress crunching over scattered books, obviously fighting with the light breeze that playfully blew a couple pages as soon as she would approach them. The dress was so familiar, but the girl was even more familiar.
“Ella?” He turned his head to better see the face he thought was Ella’s.
When Ella hear her name being called she stood up rather abruptly, causing a couple of book pages to fall back on the pavement. “Oh, hi Brendon,” she uttered while Brendon picked up the pages, “I don’t think Suzan’s home,” she continued, knowing the reason of Brendon’s visit.
Hearing this, Brendon’s face sunk a little. He did, after all, come a long way to see her.
“Oh, okay, never mind then,” he handed her the pages, waved goodbye and turned on his heel toward the parking lot.
“You can,” Ella heard herself say,” come inside for a coffee.”
She couldn’t believe what came out of her mouth; neither did Brendon.
“Suzan will be home in a while, so there is no point of you going back,” the words came out so fast, Ella feared that Brendon might interpret them wrong, or worse; she might have said a sentence without meaning or order.
Brendon obviously saw through fear and smiled. She was so insecure; she reminded him of his four-year-old niece. “Sure,” he said. “Let me help you.”
Ella fidgeted in her seat; the material the dress was made of was too thin, she felt uncomfortable. She knew people were watching her, it was a radical change of her usual attire, and people noticed. She was complimented a couple of times. All that time Ella though that maybe she was supposed to act more like Suzan. Maybe she had to be more open minded and outgoing instead of burying her head all the time in books. The wheels in her head were spinning million miles per second. To be more like Suzan? Or not? Ella bit her bottom lip when the bell rang. She had made her decision.
The weather was quite lovely that afternoon when Ella took the usual route home. The wind blew lightly, lifting her dress above her knees. She pushed it down a couple of times, trying to balance it with heavy books in her hand. Just as she was about to reach the building, Ella lost control of the weight in her arms and the books scattered all over the pavement.
Brendon pushed the tiny button on the automatic thingy that locks the car door and headed towards building which seemed to have been painted by a high school dropout on crack. As he walked closer, he saw a girl in a familiar dress crunching over scattered books, obviously fighting with the light breeze that playfully blew a couple pages as soon as she would approach them. The dress was so familiar, but the girl was even more familiar.
“Ella?” He turned his head to better see the face he thought was Ella’s.
When Ella hear her name being called she stood up rather abruptly, causing a couple of book pages to fall back on the pavement. “Oh, hi Brendon,” she uttered while Brendon picked up the pages, “I don’t think Suzan’s home,” she continued, knowing the reason of Brendon’s visit.
Hearing this, Brendon’s face sunk a little. He did, after all, come a long way to see her.
“Oh, okay, never mind then,” he handed her the pages, waved goodbye and turned on his heel toward the parking lot.
“You can,” Ella heard herself say,” come inside for a coffee.”
She couldn’t believe what came out of her mouth; neither did Brendon.
“Suzan will be home in a while, so there is no point of you going back,” the words came out so fast, Ella feared that Brendon might interpret them wrong, or worse; she might have said a sentence without meaning or order.
Brendon obviously saw through fear and smiled. She was so insecure; she reminded him of his four-year-old niece. “Sure,” he said. “Let me help you.”