Perspective

1 » First Impression

What was the first thing you noticed about her?

I stood up from my seat on the bench, taking in the crisp winter air with a deep breath. I had all the time in the world before I had to meet with my mother to discuss everything that went wrong with my education and career, and I planned to enjoy every moment. No one, not even my tyrant of a mother, could rob that from me.

The watch on my wrist told me that the time was just past nine. I grinned. There was enough time to enjoy a hearty breakfast at the local diner and then aimlessly walk around more. I began walking at a leisurely pace to where my pancakes and eggs would be waiting for me.

Try as I might, I couldn't stop my thoughts from wandering to the catastrophes that were my grades. My mother was sure to be furious that I hadn't even tried in all four of my classes last semester and allowed myself to fail, but the truth was that I didn't care for any of them. I didn't have the passion for business; I didn't even want to be a business major. Instead, I wanted to earn a degree in graphic design, but my mother—

My thoughts came to a sudden halt when I bumped into someone as I rounded a corner. My eyes widened as they followed the small bouquet of white flowers falling to the ground. Startled by the sudden encounter, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the flowers until the person I had collided with picked them up and held them to her nose with a wistful look on her face.

"At least the flowers are fine," she murmured, lowering the bouquet and shyly looking up at me.

"Uh, yeah, they're very beautiful," I somehow managed to sputter, my tongue still thick with shock.

She smiled, her expression still melancholy. "Yet they bear such a tragic meaning."

I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat. "Well, uh," I stammered. "I'm meeting someone, uh, soon, so I'll be on my way," I lied through a forced smile, moving past her without bothering to glance back.

Walking at a brisk pace, I cursed myself mentally for my inability to hold a proper conversation, but I was already dreading one later with my own mother. I didn't see the point in making myself suffer through an unexpected one with a stranger.

Once I crossed the street, I let myself slow down, trying to calm all of my jittery nerves. I was going to have a nice breakfast all to myself, not worrying about anything but enjoying myself. Until the time that I was supposed to meet my mother, I didn't owe an ounce of attention to anyone but myself.