The Meeting of the Legends

As she stepped outside, the coldness stabbed at her like needles. She turned her collar up, shoving her hands into her pockets and strolling down the sidewalk. She wandered aimlessly through the streets of London, enjoying the cold that was creeping into her button-up coat. Gazing at the black sky while she strolled, she admired the stars. The lights twinkled, and she knew that light-years away a burning ball of gas was endeavoring to stay alive in the darkness. Her glance dropped to her feet, where her gaze rested on her green converse walking heel-to-toe, heel-to-toe. Then, she let out a gasp of surprise as she witnessed a pair of brown boots plow into her high-tops. Next thing she knew, she was lying on the ground with a gangly man on top of her. Honestly, how she always managed to wind up in such awkward situations was beyond her. He scrambled to get off of her, muttering apologies and the occasional obscenity. After he shifted his weight off of her body, they both silently righted themselves.

"Excuse me," he said, brushing past her and continuing down the lamp lit sidewalk. She turned to watch the strange man go; her eyes
following his lanky strides back the way she came. He stops some ways down and snaps at a blue box. The door opens and he walks in, disappearing from sight. If the girl had the energy to care about the odd scenario, she would have. Unfortunately for her, she didn't, and so she turned back around, continuing her lonely stroll in the dark.