Tugging Heartstrings

Belladonna (Deadly) Nightshade

She met him at a cafe. It was four o'clock in the afternoon. She works as a freelance writer, typing away on her laptop of hope-filled stories she dreams of being published one day. As she sits with a cup of coffee in her hand, she glances at the counter to see a young man. About her age, tall and slender, with a full head of blonde hair. He was wearing a navy blue blazer, which brought out the gleam of his crystal blue eyes.

She turns her attention back on her computer. She's furiously blushing, cheeks flushed pink. Her screen hides her face. Immediately, her fingers dance atop the keys, typing word after word. If it weren't for her shy and soft spoken demeanor, she would have approached him right away. Her lips would have been able to form words and her legs would be able to carry her to walk up to him, but she couldn't move her lips or her legs the way she wanted to.

He always came at the same time everyday. Four o'clock in the afternoon, sharp. The cafe served as her home base when it came to writing. The atmosphere, the scent of the roasted coffee beans, the tones of brown of the walls, everything about the place was her utopia for inspiration. When he walks in the cafe, it's like the whole place lights up. It shines bright and the whole entire mood of the room shifts.

She wanted nothing more than to be like the protagonists she wrote about in her stories. She wanted to be the adventurous, bold, fearless girl who makes men fall at her feet. But she wasn't a protagonist; she fit the supporting role better. If only she could talk to him, if only she could walk up to him, if only these "if only's" would become reality, she could be with him.

Every day, she saw him, and there was absolutely nothing she could do. She would just sit behind her screen and watch him order coffee, sit at the counter, and leave when he finished his cup of joe. She'd get to glimpse at him for this short period of time.

In reality, she knew nothing about him other than his usual order and his taste in clothing. His voice was barely audible from where she sat, and his personal life was as good as hidden from her. Her mind desired to learn more about this man, but her fears chained her to the place which she sat. They tightly wrapped around her and held her captive. She lets out a small sigh, and continues her writing.

For days, weeks, even months, this continued. Until he happened to sit beside her.

She looked to the right of her to see him engrossed in a book, except he looked different. He wasn't wearing his normal dark-colored blazer. He was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. She looked at the book in his hand, only to see the name of her favorite author on the cover. In an instant, she quickly averts her attention back to her computer, realizing she had been staring for an awkward amount of time. She could feel his gaze on her.

"Are you a writer?" he asks, peering at her computer. She turns to him, her shyness immediately took hold, simply nodding to answer his question. "I see you here every day on your computer, so I figured you were either a blogger looking for a cafe scoop or a writer with the appreciation for a cup of coffee and a soothing ambiance."

His laugh sounded like a succession of heavenly bells to her. She smiled at him as he chuckled at his own joke. She took in a deep breath. "I-I see you're also a fan of Catherine Ryan Hyde," she notes with a quiet mutter. He turns to his book and smiles.

"I've been a fan since the first time I picked up a copy of her book," he looks at the cover, his fingers tracing the lettering of the title. There's a single gap of silence before he speaks once more. "I'm Kyle," he introduces himself.

"Jeannie," she nervously laughs.

And in a moment, there was a spark. She felt a warm feeling surge in her chest, leaving her body feeling weightless. The conversations went on for hours, and sometimes the same conversation would carry on to the next day. The cafe was their secret place for the both of them; it was their shared space. His smile made hers appear, shining bright. She even shared some of her drafts with him, and he gave her feedback. He was a lawyer at the nearby law firm, but he mostly did the paperwork, which was why he was able to come to the cafe so often.

He made her feel as if time had stopped. Nothing else in the world mattered except for that single moment when they were talking. He told stories like no one else, and the way he laughed before telling the punchline always made her heart skip a beat. She enjoyed his company, listening to his eventful stories and the jokes that made her laugh endlessly.

Even still, she couldn't bring herself to tell him how she felt. She continued to suppress those emotions in fear of being too rash. She would choke them down and push them away for as long as time advances. She just liked talking to him, and she didn't want to lose that. For the first time in her life, she felt like she could use her voice the way she wanted to. It felt like she could just possibly, just possibly, be the protagonist of her life that she always dreamed to be.

Then one day, he just... stopped coming.

She would look up to see that it was 4:01, and there was no sign of him around. At first, she thought it was because he was caught up in work, but when days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, she couldn't shake off the feeling that he was truly gone from her life.

If only she had told him how she really felt about him, maybe he wouldn't have left. Instead, she's left wondering with "what ifs" and "maybes". He's gone, and she doesn't know how to bring him back. He left without even saying goodbye. Now, she just sits in her chair, typing away on her computer, waiting for him to show up again. Hoping for him to show up again.

What happened to him, she'll never know.

Belladonna Nightshade: silence (also known as deadly nightshade)