literature

Ice cream

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AManicPandaBear's avatar
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Literature Text

I sit in a cafe, eat ice cream, getting the occasional strange look from patrons. I'm not part of this world, I'm not supposed to even know it exists. If I hadn't seen Zoe walk into my shop several weeks past, I wouldn't be here worriedly eating ice cream.

She walked into my bookstore, a place of oddities, antiquities, and as I would discover, more unusual things to read. Zoe walked into my store and soon after, she left with a part of me.

For most of the next few days she would return, pouring through books, most dealing with the occult. My bookstore becoming a library for her as she would stay longer and longer with each visit.

She was polite, but kept to herself. I couldn't get more than three words out of her at any time. Then one late night she fell asleep in a book. I keep an old espresso machine and pulled her a drink. I noticed she was looking through a book of obscure stories from some forgotten cultures. I touched her shoulder and she jumped.

We shared in the espresso that night and after that we began to talk long into the night, often until the sun would rise. At first we talked about the books in my store and why I was even here in this forgotten and broke down section of the city. Zoe never said too much about herself, she didn't need too. She was here looking for answers to a question. This much I knew but didn't ask. This is when she asked to meet me at a nearby restaurant the following night.

She didn't stop by the store that day and she was already at the restaurant after I closed my shop and walked the short distance to the restaurant. We ate Italian, drank a couple bottles of red wine, even shared a gelato. The restaurant was long since closed, its few patrons long gone, yet we were still talking. 

That is until she saw someone outside the windows of the place. Her eyes widened and I saw fear held in her eyes. I tried to say something but Zoe stopped me with a look and grabbed my hands, rubbing them nervously.

"I left a book behind your espresso machine, it's yours until you look for me. I need to go now."

She held my hands even tighter and just before letting go she smiled and nervously giggled.

Confused, I couldn't say anything, she got up and walked quickly to the restroom and before she disappeared behind the door, she turned and looked back at me.

"Look for me! Find me!"

Then she was gone.
This is only the start of a story, more notes on paper than anything else. You'll see this often on my writing blog, a collection of half finished thoughts and stories. I do this for a reason. I would like to believe that if I just post these scraps, thoughts, and barely worked on stories, then I'll come back to them and start filling out those thoughts and begin completing more of what I have. Most of what you'll discover here over time, I haven't done anything with in fifteen or more years...
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