The Journal - A Short Story Collection

The Act that is Immortal

The cool autumn breeze seeped into my clothes, causing me to shiver. Last I checked we were supposed to get snow within the hour, so it'd be in my best interest to get home quickly.

Winter was my least favorite season, the cold and snow being primary culprits. Holidays added to my already growing annoyance. The stress of gatherings, talking with relatives and friends about subject points that didn't matter but were for the sake of a non-quiet room.

No, I preferred the quiet. I preferred to keep to myself, distancing myself from others to rather observe. You can learn a lot from simply watching others. When talking to them, you get the side they want you to see, whether it's real. By observing them, you can pick up on subtle clues about their lives. For me, it's more interesting to imagine and ponder, rather than discuss.

As I'm seated on this bench at the bus stop, awaiting the bus that would take me from the University to my home, I embrace myself to keep some amount of warmth in. In doing so, I glanced around at everyone going about their days.

A mother yelled at her child to keep up with her as they crossed the street. She looked upset at the boy, but something told me it was about her day that truly infuriated her. The boy wept as he followed his mother, no longer misbehaving, humourous to him prior.

A man sat alone across the street, reading a newspaper while sipping coffee. Judging by the fact he sat outside told me he savored this dreadful weather, fancied his coffee black, and enjoyed the news. In reality, he probably just wanted to get out of the house, either away from someone, or to feel like he's around people again.

Another man's briefcase broke open while crossing the street, heading towards the man with the newspaper. As he picked up his scattered papers and other loose items, a woman ran up to assist. He brushed her off, but she insisted, running around the street to gather the papers as the breeze took them away. Cars honked at the pair, aggravated that they had to wait for something so pathetic.

The two eventually collected all the fallen items, placing them haphazardly back into the briefcase. The man praised her as he walked off. The woman continued her stroll, ending up at the bus stop with me.

I followed the man's movements as he walked up to a beggar who leaned against the wall of the coffee shop. The briefcase man handed money over to the beggar, nodding while moving on. I could see how much the beggar appreciated the spare change in the way he danced.

"That was crazy!" exclaimed the woman as she sat down next to me. I glanced at her for a second and smiled before returning my attention to my surroundings. In my acknowledgement of her comment, I had hoped she would notice I wasn't for a conversation, however to my dismay she continued to talk.

"His briefcase just exploded," the woman said excitedly, "Contents flying everywhere. It was quite something."

"Indeed," I responded, not really sure what to say, not wanting to give more of an answer, anyway. I shifted my body to face away from her as I stared at the cars driving by, wishing my bus would get here soon.

"How are you?" she asked me. She clearly didn't recognize my attempts to end our conversation.

"I'm fine," I mumbled.

"Just fine?"

I nodded.

"I'm Carly."

"Nathan."

"Nice to meet you, Nathan. I take it you don't like the cold."

Giving up and turning to her, I responded, "What gave it away?"

"Your body language. I enjoy observing others. I hope that isn't too weird to you."

"Not at all," I said, giving a half-smile.