Happenstance

A\N: So I'm super slow and I apologize for that but this is for Twinkyalix's 'A Certain Romance' collection. If you weren't aware, it's a collaboration of several amazing talented writers who have done one shot pieces all about different interpretations of love! If you haven't already please check out the reading list on her page with all of the works!

Anywayyyyy, I really hope you all like this. It's kinda sappy I know, but let me know what you think! Love you all <3

"I'll die like this. I'll cease to be! I proclaim loudly into the autumn eve air like some declaration of my muddled and ever rotating manifesto. I squawk like a spastic to anyone and everyone who will listen, but no one seems to hear my shouts. What was once a life of bold and brash excitement now becomes tortured, left to long inside the brazen bull as I slowly melt away. I thought that death would free me of this hideous cadaver, but instead has merely left me this clumsy rabbit of a man."

Miles eyes never move from the somewhat stranger who sits at the front of the room while he speaks. He lets each spoken syllable hit him, landing in the most pleasant of assaults on his ears. The man he watches sits perched atop a wooden bar stool with a microphone in front of him. He holds a piece of paper in his hands that he'll once in a while glance down at although his monolog seems memorized. He always spoke clearly, never mincing words. His voice was light but tonight, and all the nights recently, it lacked a certain sureness that it once had.

His form was almost as beautiful as the literature he read. He was a small man, short with a slight frame and a boyish face. His hair was near enough to chin length, it flipped out slightly near his ears and his bags hung in his face. Occasionally he would push them away but more often than not he used to them to hide the honey brown eyes that Miles had become used to seeing. If the eyes truly act as mirrors for what the heart feels then it seems lately the man who's eyes had sparkled with joy and excitement all summer long had fallen victim to winter's chill. It's made apparent by the darkness of each word he now utters as he reaches his conclusion.

"We hear time and time again that love is patient and kind. That true love will help our ships sail safely back to shore in the roughest of seas, but on nights like tonight when the sky is dark and unyielding without a single star to aid in navigating my ways home I realize... Love is fleeting, and that's all it will ever be." He bites his lip as he finishes and slides down off of the stool, moving the microphone out of the way just enough to get by.

An older man, face half hidden by large wire frames glasses now approaches the small stage space that everyone has their attention pointed towards. " How about a round of applause for Alex? Wonderful as always!" He says, taking the microphone from the stand. "I'd like to wrap up the night with a few quick announcements. As you know it will soon be our year anniversary hosting these nights here at Java Monkey. We're very thankful to the owners for allowing us to continue doing so! To celebrate we will be having a special celebration next Saturday and encourage you all to come if you can make it out. We'll be starting at 6 pm. Also, management has asked us to mention that they are currently looking for a couple of part time baristas that could work evenings for our events on Wednesday nights as well as the acoustic open mics on Friday evenings. We hope to see you all back here again next Wednesday and make sure to mark your calendars for the anniversary date. Once again that is Next Saturday. Not this coming Saturday, but the one following. Thank you, everyone drive safely and have a good night."

Miles stood up from the high top table where he sat alone in the corner, doodling on a notepad full of half-coherent thoughts that he'd written. He always came to the coffee shop with the intention of writing something himself but never was able to get much done as he was easily sidetracked. He closed the notebook and picked it up from the table along with his brown leather messenger bag, swinging it over his shoulder as he looked around. Everyone else in the narrow coffee shop seemed to be getting to their feet as well. Some of the regulars were chatting with their different groups of friends, talking about different pieces that had been performed that night, football, the weather, and just about anything else. Miles didn't often talk to people when he came in, preferring to sit towards the back of the room and observe. He was nothing more than a fly on the wall, and that was how he liked it.