A l'automne

There was something slightly unsettling and even a bit creepy about art galleries; and yet something so relaxing and comforting about them. I loved seeing the bizarre beauty and imagination in photography, seeing what other's saw as fascinating and lovely.
New York always seemed like the place for art to me, I suppose that's why I ended up here. I loved the excitement of a big city, there was always something going on, always something to see; everyone had something to do, a mission to accomplish, I loved the thought of determination.
I stopped at a particularly interesting set of photos, disturbing, but oddly beautiful and appealing to me. You could merely see the thorough enjoyment that the artist saw looking through the lens. Somehow their feelings were displayed in the slight tilt in camera angle and the contents of the footage. I didn't know for exactly how long, but I felt it was a decent amount of time I spent analyzing every detail of every picture.
Finally, the presence of someone drew my attention away from the photographs. I looked over to a rather familiar man; scruffy, but attractive nonetheless. He was dressed in sophisticated all black attire, and holding a glass, of what I assumed to be something alcoholic.
I almost couldn't say anything, looking into his blue eyes, I finally found my voice, "These are great," I smiled, glancing over the pictures once more, "very intriguing and unique, are they yours?"
He nodded, and smiled, "Thank you," he looked over his pieces, and turned back to me, "Norman," He introduced himself, and offered his free hand to me.
I shook his hand, and granted him a smile in return, "Autumn."
He spoke with what seemed to be a faint, natural accent that I couldn't really identify, truth be told, I wasn't sure if it was actually an accent, or just the way he talked, but I was immediately drawn to his voice; finding it equally as handsome as I found his face.
"Lovely to meet your acquaintance, Autumn," I loved the way my name sounded as he spoke it, every bit of it pronounced carefully and eloquently.
He had the sort of presence one would be drawn to, in which I was indeed. He had charm, even if it wasn't abundantly clear. He was welcoming, even if it didn't seem like he would be. He was approachable, even if you weren't the one approaching him.
I don't know why, but every time I was starstruck-- which happens more often than you'd think-- I didn't really comprehend that I was. Upon realizing this, I also realized the face that grazed one of my favorite movies, alongside one of my favorite shows. And I suddenly felt the urge to quote the Boondock Saints; but I ultimately, and maybe even regrettably, refrained from doing so.
His hair strategically fell in front of his eyes. I always had a thing for longer hair.
I was so distracted in analyzing his features, and the way he spoke, and the way he moved, I'd forgotten to answer. "It's nice to meet you, too." I responded back finally, again, I couldn't be sure how long 'finally' was, but it was certainly longer than I anticipated.
"I wouldn't mind escaping outside for a little bit, wanna come?" He offered.
I agreed, silently, only nodding my head so as not to seem as eager as I actually was.
The outside New York air was cold, and upon exhalation, I could see my breath. I was thinly layered, leaving my coat inside.
I watched as Norman lit a cigarette, and offering one to me. I declined.
I'd always had a weakness for smokers.
"Don't smoke?" He asked, exhaling, his long awaited, first drag.
I shook my head, "Not my thing."
"Understandable." He took another drag. The lights of the city illuminated him.
"I'm so sorry," He stuck his lit cigarette between his lips, and proceeded to remove his jacket, "you must be freezing."
I hadn't realized until then, that I was shaking, "No, it's okay," I began to protest as he wrapped his black pea coat around me. I felt the warmth immediately radiating from it. "Thank you."
He shrugged, "No problem, I've been around the cold for a long time."
After a while, he stomped out his cigarette in the freshly laid, not yet dirty, snow.
"I, umm, I should actually get home." I knew I should, but I also knew the chances of seeing or meeting Norman once again would prove slim to nonexistent.
"Need a ride, or to call a taxi?" He sounded almost as if he didn't want me leaving yet.
"No thank you, I just live right around the corner. I walked here, I was just going to walk back."
A grin settled upon his face, "I'll walk you there, with any luck, we'll be in the same building."
I smiled, and he knew that was my reply.
As it turned out, we did inhabit the same building, the same floor even.
"I've lived here for a while, and I've never seen you." The two of us stood outside my apartment door.
"I'm busy a lot, gone a lot more than I'd like to be, sometimes. But even then, I've never seen you either."
I smiled, "Hmm," I removed the coat from my shoulders, and glanced his last name written neatly on the tag, "Goodnight, Mr. Reedus." I could feel myself blushing as he grabbed it from me.
He laughed slightly, "Traveling and all."
I nodded, smiled, and turned to unlock my door.
"Goodnight, Autumn."
And with that last departing sentence, we went our separate ways for the night.