He was not from here..
By: Aïcha Elina Haïdara
Tags: Lovestory, Short Story

He was not from here. I was not supposed to notice him. I could not help myself. The sunlight made his skin sparkle like fresh caramel and his green eyes were like olives that made me want to eat him up the moment he looked at me. I felt like he could see right through to my soul and knew all of my darkest secrets. An awkward smile appeared on my face as I was about to pass him. He kept on looking at me intensely with keeping a cool and neutral look. I knew he would make my legs shake, my stomach ache and my heartbeat. As I was about to pass by him, I could feel this strange urge in my stomach. I must say something to him. I could not simply let this possibility pass me by. I knew I should not approach him. A man up to no good in the middle of the street on a busy Tuesday afternoon. I was not supposed to notice him. We lived two different lives and we were from two different worlds. Yet this urge in me was telling me that I must approach him. I must contact him. There was something about him. Something special. There must have been. So as I was about to pass by him, my mouth mumbled a salutation to him. A very common and neutral salutation that could mean everything and nothing. I could see that he was caught by surprise. He did not expect me to say anything to him, especially greet him the way any other would greet a regular person from their society. He was not part of the same society as I was, even if he was standing right in the middle of it. He was not a part of it. He looked at me as someone had just pinched his back. I couldn’t help but smile at him. All of a sudden I noticed that we were standing face to face. In the very middle of a busy shopping street on a Tuesday afternoon. On a Tuesday afternoon when people would go to do last-minute grocery shopping before going home after a long day at work. Tired people pretending to be interested in their kids' stories while waiting on the next bus to take them and their inpatient children home.

There we were, excluded from this world of grayness, tiredness, and regularity. Two people, staring at each other with curiosity and passion. Passion that was shy and yet ready to be flamed. A millisecond that felt like forever was finally broken when I could see his mouth moving accompanied by a curious smile. I was so stroked by his beauty that I couldn’t even hear what he was saying to me. I had to be that uncomfortable fool who is looking at a person while they speak, but not register a single word coming out of their mouth and have the other person repeat everything they just said. Focus, focus, focus. I must focus. My current life depends on it. I was not quite sure what he had just told me with his thick accent, but the calmness in his eyes made me feel welcome. Welcome for the first time. I was starting to feel at home.

Suddenly I felt a rather aggressive push on my backside, which led me to get closer to him. First, I turned around and gave an aggressive look to the person showing me in a rather rude manner. After realizing that due to this I was now closer to him, I was almost thankful for the selfish and rude behavior everyday people treat each other with.

Before I could say anything, he was already protecting me by pulling me closer to him with a strong grip on my shoulder and defending me by cursing off the pusher. I felt good. I felt safe and yet he was not even supposed to be here. He was not from here. I was not supposed to be here either. There is something about him, which makes me want to be a part of not being from here.

I thanked him. I could imagine many other ways I could thank him, but it was not the right time for that. He shook my hand. It was warm and rough. His hand felt like he had been working as an artisan or a woodsman for the past 20 years without ever having anyone offering him the best and most hydrating hand cream. Especially during the wintertime. During winter, it gets dry and cold here. People need all external hydration they can get unless they want to have his kind of roughness. Which most do not want to have. I could swear he was not from here. And I accepted it. I liked it. I was curious about it.

Our handshake lasted a strangely long while. He looked into my eyes. Now his smile had changed into a colder and more serious one. Regardless of his sudden coldness, I could still feel the butterflies dancing in my core. We both started to stutter simultaneously, which leads us to break into a burst of shy and insecure laughter. I told him to go first. Hearing how he greeted me away, I instantly regretted letting him go first. I was surprised. I looked down to gather all of my strengths so he would not see my disappointment before I greeted him as well. I took one more look down when I noticed a hat on the ground. A worn-down black cap with a few coins in it just lying on the ground in front of him. Next to his feet was a dirty green box. A dirty green box that serves for carrying bottles into stores to stock up for all of the people that need to drink away their sorrows. He was working. He was here working and I was disturbing him. I looked at him one more time with a confused smile before I walked away.

To be continued.