A/N: Because I've been studying Of Mice And Men by John Steinbeck (go read it, it's a good book) in class, so I thought let's have a go at writing in third person, something I haven't done in a while. So 'Meeting A Kindred Spirit' was born.


As the evening drew closer, the light softened over the pine trees. A squirrel ran along a thin branch; a pigeon's coo echoed in the silence of the evening.

An elderly woman walked across the small wooden bridge, her feet crunching amongst the sharp stones. She came to a stop at a bench. Her grey hair was tucked in a neat bun. She sat on the bench that had many uses.

The trees whispered in slight wind making the pigeon fly away suddenly. The pigeon flew away to the north, towards its nest where its family was waiting.

The woman looked up at the sudden departure from the pigeon. She was wearing a checked shirt, jeans and white trainers. Simple, but practical. She hadn't planned to come to this idyllic spot, but she was glad she had. It made a difference from the hustle and bustle of the city.

She sighed. She had hoped there was going to be someone to talk to. It had been a long time since she had properly talked.


A teenage boy with dark hair jogged slowly to the spot where he had watched in silence as his friend got murdered. It was an perfect spot but it had since been a place where he could go to think.

An elderly woman was sitting on the bench he noticed, slowing to a walk. She was looking around in amazement.

"Hello." The woman said carefully to the teen.

"Hello. Who are you?" The teen asked as he sat on the bench.

"I'm Erin," She asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm Eliot." He said, holding out his hand which she shook.

They sat in silence apart from the tinkling of the stream and the chatting of the birds in the trees above them.

"Eliot, if you don't mind me asking, were you a friend of Grace Madison?" Erin asked.

"Yes, she was a good friend. Loyal to the end." He said, his voice breaking. His eyes were wet with tears.

"I'm sorry if I upset you."

"Don't, just don't," Eliot said, his face angry, "Don't be sympathetic. It's been a year and all I ever hear is 'I'm sorry.' So many times it's lost its meaning."

Erin could hear the desperation and anger in his voice. It must have been tough on him, she thought.

Eliot tugged at his sleeve, "Sorry for being angry." He apologized, ashamed.

"I understand your anger," Erin reassured him, "My husband of fifty-five years passed away two years ago. All everyone, anyone could say was 'Sorry.' It drove me mad."

"I'm sorry," He said, then realizing what he had said, "Sorry for saying sorry."

She laughed quietly, "You don't have to be sorry Eliot. At least you understand. I mean, that's not good that your friend died, but-"

Eliot cut her off, "I know what you mean."

They fell silent as they watch the sun set in the west. The last of its golden rays penetrated the faces of Erin and Eliot, making them feel at peace.

Eliot got up, "It's been nice meeting you Erin."

"Yes, it has been. Bye Eliot." She said as he jogged away, along the winding path, into the quickly darkening forest. Erin went in the opposite direction, hoping to meet Eliot again sometime.


A/N: Please review? It makes me feel happy inside. :)