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Sunday, October 3, 2010

post #18

Prompt: Write through the perspective of someone else meeting you for the first time.

She is confusing, all darting eyes and wild hair. Glasses frame her round face, hiding the darting brown orbs. They are focused on the ground now; at her feet. More specifically, the blue-green nail polish that her toes were painted. She looks up.

"H-hi," she stammers, waving awkwardly in my general direction. Eyes to the ground again.

"Hi." I offer my hand to her. She takes it in a surprisingly strong grip. She shakes it, looking like she was fighting to look into my eyes. Flattering. "What's your name?" I ask.

"Uh, Amy."

I nod.

If I had called the previous minutes awkward, I was so criminally mistaken. We continue to stand there in the most painfully awkward silence in the history of the world. Until, that is, she throws me another awkward wave and speed-walks away from me; head down, feet shuffling, eyes darting, hair flying.

I suppose that's just Amy.


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