Moving.

"You're the kind of girl I write stories about" I told her. She sat across from me on the bus. Her eyes greenish blue like the earth. She carefully arched one eyebrow and smirked a bit. "Like me, huh?" her eyelashes fluttered.

I cleared my throat but never broke my glance. "You must say that to all the girls you meet.." she said as her eyes scanned the outside windows of the moving bus.

"Only the pretty ones." I looked over to her again. She smiled. She wore a blue sun dress that hugged her chest and hips. It blossomed down to her knees like a tulip. "So..what sort of story do I belong in?." she asked.

Our glances met again

"Hmmm” she sounded. She ran her hands threw her oak brown hair. Twisted it with her fingers. Something straight out of one of my pages.

“Let me tell you all about it..” I told her.

Tree

The wind carried a nice breeze of warm air across the courtyard. I remember it was the first day in awhile that I didn't need a jacket. People of all types walked up and down the streets, the pavement dense with the sound of sneakers sneaking and high heels clicking. Brown leaves crashed landed onto the ground and were swept up instantly by the wind. The sun warmed my face.

I sat at the bench, with bad posture and my hair blowing in the wind. I sipped on a bottle of cheap iced tea and glanced around at a set of trees that sat anchored in the ground in front of me. They sat bare and scrawny, but tall as their arms reached out to the sky, leafless and asleep.

The branches bounced up and down with the wind that carried them. Not paying much attention, I fiddled with my phone a bit. Towards the back, walked a group of workers (from the way they were dressed I assumed landscapers). Some donned in faded blue jeans, some in dirty khakis. Each wore a bright red shirt with matching company logos.

They carried various, gardening tools with them. Saws and sheers and pruners and scythes. I glanced over and made eye contact with one of them. The worker gave me a strange look back and I looked away, awkwardly.

I lost myself for a second and closed my eyes as I heard the clanking of one of the metal pruning tools. Then instantly I was shook by an abnormal piercing shriek, followed by the unmistakable, blood-curdling screech of a man. The sound painted the air with agony.

My head shot up and I saw the worker being flailed around in the air, his body gripped by the branches of the bare brown tree. The man screamed and another shriek followed as he was thrown and shaken and juggled in the air. His limbs flipped and flopped like a rag doll.

I tried to move but my limbs turned to ice. Couldn't run,couldn't yell, I could barely think. More screams filled the air as the other workers ran panicked, some toward the tree and the smart ones ran away from it.

Some of the workers screamed and yelled, carrying their tools and swung them drunkenly. One of the shorter workers, mustached and face full of rage bran-dashed a set of stainless steel sheers.

More metal clanked, and then came a snap. His neck twisted completely around as the slender branches of the tree tapped on his neck playfully. The only sound made after his neck snapping was the sound of the sheers falling onto the paved concrete.

In a blur, the ground was covered with neatly landscaped stones and lime green grass, splashed with blotches of crimson. I stood there, my knees wobbly and feet sinking into the sidewalk.

A gust of wind grabbed a hold of the notebook in my hand and 7 or 8 pieces of paper went dancing into the air.

The thumping in my chest blocked out all the sound around me, that was until I heard that shriek again.

Name

She didn't remember my name.

I reminded her.

Then looked her in the eyes and asked,

"Is it weird that I remember your name?"

She smiled.

"What is it then?" she asked.

I answered.

She blushed.

Train Ride.

I sat there in a daze that was broken the second I thought heard your voice among the click click clatter of Chicago.

It hit me like a splash of water to the face. Was it warm water? Cold water? The suddenness of it didn't matter, it still hit me when I least expected it. That's the wonderful thing about water, it can run calm and serene like a tiny stream. It can crash and splash and swallow ships whole.

It hit me. I was drifting asleep then you woke me. My senses sharp and my heart thumping against my ribs. There I sat by alone on a crowded train car. The view of the streetlights below looked as if the stars got sick of the sky and decided to join us down here.

Right away I looked around and none of the faces matched the voice. People where there but none of those people were you. It was a funny sort of feeling, hearing you and more importantly feeling you there with me, but alas you weren't there and neither was your ghost.

Sweet

You could be somewhere at sometime and see someone and something happens between two strangers. A connection, eye contact, body language, funny looks, awkward approaches. Tension follows smiles and smiles lead to laughter. Chatter is mixed with wobbly knees and comfortable pauses in conversation.

Then you get a cup of coffee or see a movie. Then maybe you have a nice meal. You order the cheese-burger,no onion, she gets the house salad, french dressing, croutons.

The waitress asks, “Would you like dessert?” She seems reluctant, and you act the same, even though it's your favorite part of the meal. Even though you know your just stalling so this night lasts longer.

“Cheesecake, New York Style.”

You nod your heads in agreements.

You split it, she picks up the silverware and slides a piece of it onto the fork, rests her index and middle on your chin lightly, and smiles. She bats her eyelashes and with each bite you come to the conclusion that nothing could be as sweet, as the girl sitting across from you.

The cheesecake lay there on it's plate, defeated.

Drag.

“A girl like that has her feet always on the ground and her heart on the road.” said a deep, low sounding voice. He stood there with an unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. Dressed in a thick black cotton coat, lint hugging his sleeves and collar. He wore black slacks that have probably never been ironed before. His hair,long and barely brushed peeked out of the side of his hat like a houseplant flipped upside down. “I wouldn't leave the light on for her..I mean. Maybe you should count your blessings and move on?.”

“You wanna know how long I'm gonna wait? I'm gonna hold my breath until my fuckin' cheeks turn blue.” a voice responded, slightly higher pitched, calming but upset. His shoulders broad but always slouched. The man in the black took his hands out of his pants pocket and gave himself a pat down. Checking each pocket until he pulled out a box of Marlboro's Reds and a tarnished, gold plated Zippo. Hit the back of the pack and out slides a single square. He grabbed it with his thumb and index finger and handed it to his friend.

He flicked the top of the lighter with his thumb and out danced a tiny flame. Swaying back and fourth were hues of tangerine orange, ocean blue and lemon yellow. He lit his partners square then pulled his head toward the lighter and lit his cigarette. The smoke filled their lungs and danced out of their lips and nostrils, filling the sky.

“Jesus, man. Third time's a charm, you'll be lucky to make it through the second.” the man in the black coat was worried and seemed tired of having this conversation again. His voice was stern but still caring. “What do you mean by that?” asked the man, inhaling from his cigarette. “These girls. This is the 2nd one, right?, this is your 2nd, “One...” he cleared his throat. “The One..”

“I was never able to tell her..Maybe that's why I'm looking out at a city full of strangers and she's seeing nothing but the highway in front of her.”

He took another drag of his cigarette and a bit of ash danced off the burning, cherry tip and into the air grabbed by a gust of the cold city air.

Wind.

We waded through the flock of bodies, packed wall to wall. It was crowded but it was just you and me, me and you. You peered at me with those big emerald eyes of yours,batted both eye lashes causing a gust of gorgeous wind that would have knocked me back a few feet. Good thing you were holding my hand as tight as you were, otherwise I'd have been blown away, swallowed by the Chicago sky.