Our Sonorous Limerence

The Anomalous Author

Its Friday morning in Los Angeles at exactly 5:49am on the Third of January. The weather is chilly but bearable. I stumble across the street, cars blaring and busy people briskly walking past me. For some inexplicable reason, I believe its not only me who wasn't quite ready for the Christmas break to be over. The entire city is overwhelmed and rageful, everyone ignoring each other while travelling to their place of occupation.

The time is almost 6:15am when I rush through the doors of Petrichor café. I'm already late on the first day of the job. After a few disappointed words from my new manager , I sprint to the register and begin my day of work. 

The bell by the door tinkled  as someone walked in.

"Hi, what can I get you on this fine day?" I inquired. 

After my shift comes to an end, I do a quick inventory of everything around me. Scanning the café, I search among the unfamiliar faces for anyone I can identify. Curiously enough, my eyes pause on a single person in the booth at the very corner of the building. They're wearing so many layers of clothing that I can't distinguish cloth from skin. 

As if feeling my gaze, he glances up. Pulling down headphones I didn't even realize he wore, he directed his full attention on me. Heat crawled up my neck. Nervousness latching at my mind and stifling all coherent thoughts.

 He wore a stylish black coat and a navy blue scarf, covering most of his face. Now, since he was looking directly at me, I could see his eyes. His iris, the lightest shade of brown I'd ever seen, searched mine. 

"Heeyyyyy there" he spoke unsurely.

 "Oh hi" I stuttered, "What're you listening to?" I inquire, scrambling for a reason why I was  watching him.

 He smiled softly. Well I think he did, it was hard to determine under all the scarves. "Teeth- Five seconds of summer, the song has a lot of meaning, you know." he responded with an absent nod. 

After a few awkward moment, his gaze fixated back on his laptop. Long fingers typing away. My eyes stayed locked on his every movement.

Is he doing an assignment? Is he an author? How old is he? He's kind of cute. WOAH, my thoughts were seriously getting out of hand.

He raised his chin, pausing the action of putting his headphones back on. At that moment, I would love nothing more than to kick myself.  I was still staring at him, presumably as if I were a stalker. A reallly reallllly bad stalker. Who fails their job by noticeably and openly staring at their victim.

"You look like a somnambulist" he grinned at my confused expression, "It means you look like you're sleepwalking." he rectifies. 

"Oh, sorry" I mutter. We continue to stare at each other. I have no clue how long passes before the door opens and I break our eye-contact to swivel around. 

"HEY KIDDO!"' Rica ruffles my hair playfully, "Your shift is over, better to get home now before the traffic forms!" 

I've only known 32 year old Veronica for a day yet we've already been acquainted.  She's pretty chill and overly hyper. At first sight, I had burst into laughter upon watching her argue with a salt shaker. Ah, yes, yesterday's job-hunting was fantastic. I exchanged a few words with her, then turned to leave. 

The boy in the scarf stood in front me, eyebrows raised in question and his arm extended.

On a small strip of paper was a number, his number. He was offering me his number. "You're cool, wanna be my companion and confidante?" he asks. I laugh at his choice of wording, "Sure, I would absolutely love to be your friend."

ʘ▨▥▦▣▩▮▯◊▪▫▤▧◉▩▮▯◊▪▫▤▧◉◎◒◘⋛⋞⋱▪▫▤▧◉◎◒◘⋛⋞⋱⋮⋰⋯ʘ▨▥▦▣

Two days later, I had discovered that a friend like' the boy in the scarf' was exactly what I needed. 

"Ardor!" I gasped, shaking with laughter as he continued to enthusiastically speak. "AND THEN SHE FLUNG THE BOOK AT ME!!!! THE AUDACITY!" he howled hysterically, dramatically clutching his chest as if offended. He had a barely noticeable accent yet it made me feel as if my insides were melting. I have to get a hold of myself.

His name was Ardor and I loved it. The name was unique, fascinating and mysterious, just like him. He was 18, two years older than me but its as if we were the same age. He's one of those rare people that you feel as if you know for your entire life. I jumped upon realizing he was no longer laughing but judgmentally shaking his head. 

"Don't think I haven't spotted you admiring my striking, alluring looks every few minutes" he gave me a charismatic crooked smile. I laugh at his teasing. If only he knew how much he had an effect on me. His laugh, his lips, a soft line. How his tousled hair fell into his eyes. I think he had forgotten to brush his hair this morning. 

"Alright, I need more info about your cloak-and-dagger cryptic being. Spill." I spoke in a commanding voice. I could see Ardor stifling his chuckles at my completely serious commander impersonation.

"Alright! Well I was raised in the Wales. My fascination for writing began on a ferry to Ireland to visit my sister, I saw her....I saw her...."

He pauses, clears his throat and continues in a forced voice, "Her pain inspired me, it broke me down so much to the point I was gonna..."

His Adams apple bobbed as he swallows. "I dealt with my emotions by writing, it was my haven, my safety, my savior" 

The mood had altered so abruptly. Whatever had happened to the sister I had never heard of must've been bad. I hold my breath, awaiting his impending words. 

"Every memory, every laugh, every piece of advice we shared....it was for naught." he whispers more to himself than to me. My heart ached, knowing he had gone through something that had so thoroughly broken him.

He suddenly glances at me with that crooked smile, "So, do you like sad stories with lots of deaths?" he questions. 

"Not to be morbid or anything, but....HECK YEA!" I answer, pumping my fists.