The Sinners We Love |18+

[2] mauve taupe

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mauve taupe: intriguing and distant

The silence was tacit.

I knew it. He knew it too, as he was the one coordinating it.

Soft golden hues dabbled his features and even from the distance, it did nothing to hide the tiredness marring his face.

My first instinct was to look down at my bag. Pulling it up, I looked inside the unzipped pockets to see if I had stolen something. My biggest fear. Or maybe not. But a close second after the terrorist attacks. Someone would drop their stolen products inside my bag and blame it on me. It was quite peculiar as Emma would phrase it. It wasn't peculiar.

I was just vigilant. Wary. Borderline cynical. But my action however in return, made him wary. His shoulders straightened in alertness, as I tightened the strap along my shoulder. There wasn't anything suspicious inside my handbag.

For a trifling moment, a hint of an indecipherable feeling sprawled across his distant almond eyes, trailing down his features. But it was gone in the next second.

"Who are you?" A slight accent entwined with his words rolled off his tongue, never enough to give a clue of his native.

This man was asking me questions as if I hadn't left the corporate field because I never got acquainted with this question. What a stupid question it was. Who are you? As if I could ever tell them, as if I had even known the answer myself.

"Well, in the grand scheme of life, I am no one." My tongue rolled with halfwit of my brain. I inwardly cringed. My wit was lower than my vocabulary. I was still trying to reconcile with that feeling.

His unfaltering gaze swept down my body, particularly resting on my waist and feet. It wasn't sultry, seductive. He wasn't trying to seduce me. The grave gleam in his eyes said he was deducing something from me. Well, if no one was trying to seduce me, at least someone was trying to deduce me. That'd do.

His skeptical eyes trailed down, across the place, behind me, beside me, in front of me, making me inquisitive. Grazing my eyes along the unfinished terrace, I mentally noted the things I saw. Bags. A whole lot. They lined one side of the place. Holes inside the concrete railings, bricks beneath them. Nothing special or outwardly. Very constructional workplace aura.

"Walk straight." He commanded, his tone low but distinctly authoritative, his finger moving in a way as if he was carving a way for me to follow. It made me want to follow his instructions. But I stood my ground bewildered by this strange interaction. "Here." He added, pointing his finger across him, inside the warmth of the concrete walls.

"What?"

"Take your feet. Place it forward. Walking. As they have termed it." The man muttered, pride lining his eyes and conceit lacing his tone. "In a straight line."

I was offended alright. Absolutely demolished. "Or what?" Irritation bristled its way into my veins. "Are you going to drag me?"

The man hummed lightly, solemnity etching his features. "If you are an imbecile, I will have to, yes?"

My tongue rolled in haste, prepared to do something dull.

"This place is not open for visitors." He mentioned methodically, cutting me off, sparing me a piece of dignity. An act of kindness. A grain of knowledge that he was lending me. For the time being.

Pushing back my flailing hair, away from my skin, I took a step forward concentrating on the man as the gravity of the unknown situation settled inside me. This place did look dodgy. Shouldn't want any more trouble. I walked my way inside, like he had asked me to, in a straight line. Before I could divert my way and walk away his gritty voice buzzed along with the heat inside. "Back on the wall."