Coincidences and Chance Occurrences.

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"Excuse me, uh, sir? Hello, yeah hi, sorry."

The voice is feminine and softened with nerves as a shadow looms in your peripheral vision. Glancing up from your book you subconsciously reposition your shoulders and straighten up in your seat for a more comfortable position. You don't know it but your eyebrow is furrowed and the book you were reading has slouched in your grasp.

"I hate to bother you, but could I take your picture?" She waves a camera in her hand a bit which you hadn't really noticed before. It's not a fancy piece of equipment but what do you know about cameras? It's relatively small, black and the body had several marks on it. A strap of material is attached on one end, swinging up around her neck and back down to the other side of the black, plastic contraption.

"Um...sir? Is that a yes?" She's biting her bottom lip and absently you wonder if she's ever made it bleed. You've never gnawed your bottom lip, at least not unconsciously as she is doing, but you remember girls in high school doing it. Her shoulders are slightly hunched and she looks as if she's going to draw away, and who would blame her at your odd behaviour.

"Uh...sorry?" Your voice is a little rough and you clear your throat, wishing you had a water bottle. As if reading your mind she produces one, unopened.

She resumes her request. "It's just that you looked so picturesque there. Reading, your position. It was peaceful and intense all at once."

"Oh." Well that was certainly intelligent, you say to yourself sarcastically. Is this girl nuts? You think, studying her a little more. She's wearing jeans that are slightly tattered; most likely from use, and her hair is a black and brown mass of curls. Something around her neck catches your eye and you note she is wearing more than one necklace, each of different materials. Her white shirt is buttoned up except for a few empty loops around her neck and you can see the necklaces are of different lengths as well. A claw of some sort, a green stone, a gold word? Her sleeves have been crammed up around her elbows and around her wrists are more interesting things. On her right is some sort of burgundy cuff, watch, and bracelet with eight identical charms. On her other wrist in a complicated bracelet made of leather with various blue and green rocks attached to it by tiny silver clasps that glint in the light. Next to it was a black rubber bracelet, and rubber band.

She stretched forth a hand which you shake, noting two rings on her right middle finger and two rings on her left hand; a mood ring (blue and green) on her ring finger, and an odd fork looking thing wrapped around her thumb. He saw a black mark on her index finger that he felt sure was a tattoo but didn't wish to bring it up to eye level for closer inspection.

"ahem."

With a start that takes you both by surprise you realise you've been staring at her for several minutes.

"About the picture?" She murmurs hopefully and you nod, readjusting yourself into your previous position, poising your novel just so. Your eyes are fixated on the page before you but your mind is elsewhere. She's not terribly pretty, you decide; her hair is a little messy (though clean judging by the smell of shampoo around her), her large, black eyes are lined with black and her skin tone is even, but something about her is different. Eccentric even.

You barely register the sound of her camera clicking. Must be a film camera, then, not digital. Turning the page of your novel you realise she'd make an excellent character in a book. Mysterious, eccentric, dark, and mild mannered but bold when she wanted something. Artistic too. Without thinking you reach into your shoulder bag and withdraw a notebook and pen. Scribbling down a description and various emotions, and subconscious habits she had you reach the end of the second page when you realise she's gone.

Sitting up straighter you glance around but the other chairs are empty and a dull murmur of voices can be heard from downstairs. The skylight reveals a pale, wispy orb in the pre-evening sky and checking your watch you realise you've been their longer than you'd meant to be. Putting away your books and pen you slip on a jacket and shoulder your bag, rummaging through your coat pocket for your keys.

Outside the weather is warmer than inside and you pause to remove your jacket and sling it over your arm. Your truck it one of twenty scattered vehicles and you find it easily. Shutting and locking the door you start the engine, and run a hand through your hair and to the back of your neck. It's been a long day, you tell yourself. The horizon to your right is an amazing mesh of colours, reminding you of a matte painting from a movie.

Once home, laying in bed, and staring at the ceiling you realise something. The tattoo. The one on the index finger of her left hand...It was in the shape of a letter...

The same one your right index finger.