Give me a minute... I'll remember... Seriously... (roguefishfood) wrote in little_imaginer,
Give me a minute... I'll remember... Seriously...
roguefishfood
little_imaginer

I think this community is a wonderful idea, if only because I do the same thing... all the time... I tend to daydream about what I wish would happen involving certain people in my life, (almost never sexual) especially, just because I really get into those daydreams, and they make me happier than whatever is actually going on at the moment. I'll include a little example. Yes, it's sappy, and everything but the first bit about tapping noises is false, but this is the sort thing that goes on in my head sometimes. My writing hasn't really been up to snuff lately, but I'm giving it a try anyway.
~~~~~

Pitter patter, that's what my life is full of right now. Between the keyboard and the rain smacking against the outside end of the air conditioner, tapping sounds are invading my brain, which, now that I realize it, sounds worse than is. It sounds like it's annoying me, and it really isn't. As constant and droning as the sound is, it's soothing, and has me in a sort of trance. At first, I don't even notice when there's a new intermittent tap added just behind me and to my right against the window.

It gets louder though, and harsher, so it stands out from the dull thrum of rain and letters, and I can easily identify it as coming from the window. What the hell? I try to ignore it to no avail, even finding myself counting them, and waiting for the next clash of something against plexiglass. There are three more raps, followed by a dull thud from next to the window, and then another couple of raps. Oy...

At last, I decide it might be worth it to look into this new disturbance. Pushing sideways on my desk, I propel myself into a short spin to face the window, and slide to my feet, where I give the cord of the venetian blinds a good hard yank, and watch it collapse upward.

A rock comes very close to my face, and there's that noise again.

Okay...

A brief evaluation of the situation has me trying to open the window while standing off to one side, trying not to get hit by the projectiles. Someone is trying to get my attention -- yes, I'm concerned about it, but my curiosity, as usual, overcomes my worry. The window slides upward, according to plan, and I blithely stick my head out of it, only realizing my mistake when a rock soars dangerously past my head.

"HEY! HEY! STOP THROWING SHIT!" I call out before realizing who it is.

"WHOOPS! SORRY!" The offender apparently realizes that he threw one too many stones. Wait a minute... that voice is awfully familiar...

Paying no mind to the fact that my recently showered head is being pelted with rain, I squint through the heavy blue haze of an evening rainstorm and begin making out characteristics -- drenched black hair, about down to the shoulders, small frame, all black clothes, glasses sitting near the tip of his nose... Ha! He's the last person I'd expected to see, though I'm not quite sure why.

"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME ARE YOU DOING HERE?" I ask.

"I WANTED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING!" He hollers back.

I yell out, "I'D RATHER... ER... I'LL BE DOWN IN A MINUTE... JUST STAY THERE! AND DON'T THROW ANYTHING!"

I slam the window shut and, in my pajamas, totally neglecting shoes or a coat, rush to the apartment door and fly down three flights of stairs to the outside door of the building. I push it open with far more force than I need to, and grab onto the knob, hanging, precariously out over the porch, one foot still in the door and one dangling over the wood of the deck, and leaning in his direction.

"Hey..." I get his attention from over at the side of the house. Instead of walking all the way around to the stairs, he climbs up and sort of vaults over the railing onto the porch, which makes me wince, since the railing looks like it'll fall off any day now. He crosses the short distance to where I'm leaning, and just grins at me, and waves almost ironically.

He's smiling. I'd love to throw my arms around him now, except that if I let go of the door, it'll slam shut and lock automatically, and then we'll both be stuck out here. His dark eyes are shining brilliantly behind his glasses, which are so wet that I could only presume that he'd see better without them than with. Speaking of which, he's soaked through to the skin from head to toe -- and yet, he's smiling.

"You... wanted to tell me something?" I remind him softly.

"Yeah."

I'm obviously not thinking straight, because I interrupt him. "Look, I'm sorry about what I..."

He returns the favor, interrupting me. "I love you."

Wordlessly, I grab his hand and pull him inside, knowing that at very least, he'll be needing a few towels.

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