A Love Story

Anything Goes

AN - I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update. My heart aches for the Palestinian children and I am praying for peace. I just couldn't think about writing.

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Anything Goes

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The light of dawn bloomed through the bedroom window. Anakin's eyes opened with a slit to receive any gifts and struggles that may await when he gets out of bed. It had been a journey but things were looking hopeful. He didn't want to get out of bed, though; Padme was already at work and the house was devoid of magic without her. He held onto Padme's pillow, pushing back the lonely looming hours to come.

He eventually lurched upright, transported by soundless tranquility in the air when he found a note on his bedside table from Padme:

I truly, deeply love you

He stared at the note awakened and living; it sprung him to meet nature's smiles.

–

In the notorious corners of the sand park, Anakin wheeled himself out from underneath a Mustang with tools in his hand. His green polo shirt was splattered with oil. Dusty trails marked the lines on his forehead, along with an instant scowl and squinted eyes from the sun when he found a man hovering over him.

"Hi, is Sebulba here?"

The man asking had an energy that matched his presence. His style was prideful and suave, elegantly groomed but capable of violence at the drop of a silent pin. He looked like a man that knew how to make luxuries work in his favour. He wore an off-white collarless shirt that seamlessly tucked into dark blue slacks and was held in place by a brown belt with a snug metal buckle.

"No." Anakin's face looked like he had cast a spell to put his features to sleep. He was statuesque, a wax figure in all but voice and tone. The expression fitted him like a glove covering intentional anarchy. He wanted to be left alone.

With such a stable face and deliberate ignorance, Anakin crafted a look of deep seething. It was clear there was nothing for this visitor here. Yet the man did not leave. Instead his stance seemed to get wider with assertion, framed with an unfriendliness, like he was rarely questioned and expected his questions answered.

"You're Anakin, correct?"

"Who's asking?"

"Jango. Jango Fett." Jango offered his hand, but Anakin didn't shake it. Anakin got up, dusted himself off and took a gander around the patch of land while wiping his hands on a ragged cloth. But despite what he felt was an invasive, disturbing presence, the space looked how it always looked, like a gigantic sandy carpet unrolled out toward the main road, enclosing the people in the park.

There were all the usual views as well. Unclear faces and chatter lost among the labyrinthian wooden benches that break symmetry in the powdery white sand. Every bench uncoordinated with the other in this disorderly, free, natural setting. The park goers preserved themselves from the scorching heat with their big umbrellas.

There was only one thing out of the ordinary. When Anakin's eyes had circled the park and returned, looking ahead, behind Jango, there was a white Jaguar C-type.

"Nice car." Anakin said, wiping his face with the last clean spot of the cloth.

"Thanks."

Anakin shoved the corner of the cloth in his denim pocket so it hung out like a dead flower, a token of all he collected down the roads that led him here – used, dirty, but still able to bloom.

He peeked inside the car, in which the future and past aligns, a considerate time-travel pilgrimage unfolds and roots itself in the centre of Anakin's stubborn disbelief. He now looked impressed, gripped by branches of inventiveness that go beyond what is possible. Here's a story he has wanted to tell many times but only a few ever got it right – modern tech in an old-fashioned car. Coinciding so peacefully, so superbly, so honorably, like they should have always trusted each other.