Status: New
If I Look Back
#2
After hours of unpacking, furniture building and rearranging and organizing, I decide that I need a break. I take a hot shower and towel dry my hair. Out of pure habit and vanity, I swipe mascara across my eyelashes and put a run tinted chapstick across my lips. In a last ditch effort to feel normal again, I run a thin line of black eye liner along my lash line.
I pull on a simple pair of leggings, a tank, a sweater and a pair of boots. I grab my bag from its place on the chair by the door. My keys are in the bowl by the door; I snatch them along with my coat before stepping out onto the mat.
The air is quiet and still. The only sound is the rain falling on the pavement and the leaves of the interior garden. The porch light is dim but it’s my own little beacon of home. I make a note in my mind to put a green blub in as a private, literary joke.
I start off down to the little pub I’d seen earlier today.
The warmth of the pub is welcome after the chill in the night air and the light is dim and soothing. There are few others in the place and the bar tender smiles when I enter. I move slowly towards the bar, assessing the place and deciding on a place to sit. There are several tables, a long bar and a few chairs by a fireplace. The décor is dark, heavy and British.
“Hello, little Miss,” the bartender, says as I approach. “What’s your name then?”
“I’m Lilly.” I answer quietly. He has a genuine, clear face and a rich voice. He is tall with dark hair and lucid, bright eyes. There’s some grey around his temples and some lines around his eyes but he looks cheerful and energetic.
“Well, Lilly, I’m Basil. Welcome. What can I get you?” He stops wiping glasses and leans against the bar, wiping his hands on the towel before throwing it over his shoulder.
“I’d like a pint of Guinness, please.” I say.
“Sure; this is your first time in here.” He states.
“Yes, I’ve just moved here.” I reply simply. He smiles like he knows something I don’t.
“Here you go, love.” He says kindly and passes me the beer. “Make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” I smile gently before moving towards the fireplace.
After about an hour and half of reading by the fire and 2 pints, the door of the pub opens and another person emerges. He is tall and carelessly dressed. His clothes are well made but not designer and don’t quite match. His hair is slapdash but naturally so. He shakes the rain off of his hair and removes his coat.
He looks around as though he is familiar with this place and makes his way confidently to the bar. Basil calls out to him but I cannot hear what he says. He takes a seat at the bar and begins talking with Basil. I study his form for a few minutes. He is thin but I imagine that he is stronger than he appears.
His posture is downcast but prideful, almost aristocratic. As he sits on the barstool and places his heels on the rungs, his jeans rise up and reveal a pair of patterned socks. I smile to myself. What kind of man wears tailored jeans and expensive shoes but socks with silly patterns? I turn my attention back to my book before I can memorize any more details of this man. The last thing I need in my life is another hopeless romantic fling into fantasy.
Eventually, I need another pint and make my way towards the bar. Basil kindly obliges and while he pours my pint, I study the man at the bar out of the corner of my eye. His face is sweet and innocent but also elegant and intelligent. His eyes are a disturbing color that I cannot give a name to and his lips are romantic. But he looks sad, disappointed, maybe even a little bit lost. He has a half smile on his face as though something has pleased him but he’s not willing to let it be entirely enjoyable.
I take my pint and move back to the fireplace.
“No, Lilly.” I whisper under my breath. “Don’t you dare.”
I pull on a simple pair of leggings, a tank, a sweater and a pair of boots. I grab my bag from its place on the chair by the door. My keys are in the bowl by the door; I snatch them along with my coat before stepping out onto the mat.
The air is quiet and still. The only sound is the rain falling on the pavement and the leaves of the interior garden. The porch light is dim but it’s my own little beacon of home. I make a note in my mind to put a green blub in as a private, literary joke.
I start off down to the little pub I’d seen earlier today.
The warmth of the pub is welcome after the chill in the night air and the light is dim and soothing. There are few others in the place and the bar tender smiles when I enter. I move slowly towards the bar, assessing the place and deciding on a place to sit. There are several tables, a long bar and a few chairs by a fireplace. The décor is dark, heavy and British.
“Hello, little Miss,” the bartender, says as I approach. “What’s your name then?”
“I’m Lilly.” I answer quietly. He has a genuine, clear face and a rich voice. He is tall with dark hair and lucid, bright eyes. There’s some grey around his temples and some lines around his eyes but he looks cheerful and energetic.
“Well, Lilly, I’m Basil. Welcome. What can I get you?” He stops wiping glasses and leans against the bar, wiping his hands on the towel before throwing it over his shoulder.
“I’d like a pint of Guinness, please.” I say.
“Sure; this is your first time in here.” He states.
“Yes, I’ve just moved here.” I reply simply. He smiles like he knows something I don’t.
“Here you go, love.” He says kindly and passes me the beer. “Make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” I smile gently before moving towards the fireplace.
After about an hour and half of reading by the fire and 2 pints, the door of the pub opens and another person emerges. He is tall and carelessly dressed. His clothes are well made but not designer and don’t quite match. His hair is slapdash but naturally so. He shakes the rain off of his hair and removes his coat.
He looks around as though he is familiar with this place and makes his way confidently to the bar. Basil calls out to him but I cannot hear what he says. He takes a seat at the bar and begins talking with Basil. I study his form for a few minutes. He is thin but I imagine that he is stronger than he appears.
His posture is downcast but prideful, almost aristocratic. As he sits on the barstool and places his heels on the rungs, his jeans rise up and reveal a pair of patterned socks. I smile to myself. What kind of man wears tailored jeans and expensive shoes but socks with silly patterns? I turn my attention back to my book before I can memorize any more details of this man. The last thing I need in my life is another hopeless romantic fling into fantasy.
Eventually, I need another pint and make my way towards the bar. Basil kindly obliges and while he pours my pint, I study the man at the bar out of the corner of my eye. His face is sweet and innocent but also elegant and intelligent. His eyes are a disturbing color that I cannot give a name to and his lips are romantic. But he looks sad, disappointed, maybe even a little bit lost. He has a half smile on his face as though something has pleased him but he’s not willing to let it be entirely enjoyable.
I take my pint and move back to the fireplace.
“No, Lilly.” I whisper under my breath. “Don’t you dare.”
♠ ♠ ♠
