She reviewed the notes as she crossed the busy street.
23, grey eyes, black hair in a tussle, 6 feet 2 inches, built quite well, - needed. Immediately.
And she was not one to disobey. He would be gotten within the day. In fact, she could see him going into the coffee shop right now. The easy part, finding him, was done. Now came the second part: make known who she was and follow him to where he resided.
And then the third and hardest part: make him understand he was coming home.
Mug in hand, he sat down at a two-person table with the paper. And why couldn't ones like him read the paper? News is the most informative thing, and he loved being informed.
His outfit: a white undershirt, a very nice blue jacket over it, blue jeans with two crotch buttons, (they were on sale,) black dress shoes, and a red cap with a brand he didn't care about on it. He was not one for fashion, but it got the job done.
He put the paper down. Disturbing news, as always in a big city. He didn't know which was worse, though: the fact that he could but really couldn't do anything about it, or that a lot of people didn't have time to care.
Ah well. He flipped to the comics. At the top was always his favorite. He read it. His eyebrows raised in amusement. He was not one for laughter; in fact, this reaction was the largest any strip would usually get out of him. He picked up the mug and took a drink. Specialty coffee. The mass was right; you could not go back once you tried it. He put the mug down.
And there was the girl, standing right across the table in the opposite seat. Smiling.
NO.
It wasn't the girl's fault. The man's expression didn't change – much – but inside he knew, all of a sudden, that this was it. This was the day. September 18, 1999, was the very day. He checked the time on his watch for an exact moment. (Ah yes, forgot to mention the watch.) 6:02 P.M.
6:02 P.M. The exact moment. A moment he would remember the rest of his days.
He looked back at the girl. Still smiling affectionately, maybe even a little romantically. Brown eyes. Long black hair pulled back. A white Adidas top. Blue jeans. Strong in appearance. Must be about 5 feet 8 or 9 inches. Must be about 19. She took his mug and drank all the rest of the coffee. Then, exhaling in pleasure, she laid it upside down and looked back at him again with that fixing stare. That fixing – smile.
He had paid for that coffee. But that concern was miniscule in the context.
He got up suddenly. She got up suddenly. The two walked to just outside the building, to the sidewalk, the busy sidewalk. They looked at each other. She offered a hand.
The man turned to the left and began trotting to his apartment. He knew who was behind him all the way there.
A marvelous red sunset proved beauty could still shine on doubt. A red brick building was where his abode lay – fifth floor. He put his right foot on the first of those many rusty green steps upward. Creak. Then his left on the second. The third. Fourth.
The girl put her left foot on the first step. No noise, but the man knew she had done it. All the way up the stairs the two stepped in perfect synchrony, right with left, left with right. An untrained, everyday ear would think it was one. But they were different. Not just in hearing, not just in sight. In all senses. One like them would know it was two.
The fifth floor. The door was right there, at the turn to the next flight. He stopped. The girl stopped. He paused a moment, then looked at her.
Smile.
His shut his eyes so she wouldn't see the sadness in them, even though he knew she knew. This was really it. He reached for his keys in his pocket to open the door.
They weren't there. He started to look at the girl, only to stop at her outstretched hand, holding – he grabbed the keys and unlocked the door hastily.
His apartment wasn't cheap – but not fantastic. A large-ish open area that included the living room, kitchen, large windows on one wall, and a closet in the corner was a good starting point. Then, walk straight ahead to the end and you had three doors: first on the right, bath; first on the left, laundry; second on the right, bed. He liked it here.
But the hand being placed on his shoulder firmly reminded him that it was now time to leave it all behind. Possibly forever. He understood exactly why, but that didn't mean he wanted to go. He knew it was right, but... it just didn't feel that way. How could they do this? How could they just wreck his life like this?
Then he paused.
Deep, calming breaths. He was overreacting. Deep, calming –
That hand on his shoulder. All the anger rose up again – against her. In an instant, a fist of his lunged for her stomach cruelly and powerfully!
The girl, remaining calm, moved her palm to cup the fist neatly. She then used her other hand to touch the man's chest softly, making him stagger back about two feet.
The man looked up. That gaze again. But she was not smiling. There, two humans stood looking at each other, for they were both only human. Bare adolescence and bare adulthood staring each other down. All was quiet and tense for a few seconds. Very, extremely, unnervingly quiet. Only sounds of breathing could be heard by straining to listen.
The girl took three steps and stopped in front of her elder – quite close.
"A perfect strike," she whispered in his chest. And what a whisper; all the man's anger went away instantly. Clear, soothing, calm, and beautiful. The voice of his people.
"It is time," he whispered back with the same quality.
The smile returned, gratefully. "You will be a real warrior soon." She looked up from his chest to his face, and for the first time, witnessed a smile returned to her. A long-awaited smile. Everything would be alright. The hard part was over, and both were thankful.
The girl walked over to the windows and opened them wide while the man went to his bedroom and came out a minute later with two bags. Strapping them to him, one over each shoulder, they positioned themselves and he nodded. Simultaneously, the two each swung their bodies and hung over to the other side, to the sky, the outer wall, one hand still clasping the window frame. The girl saw the second bag and raised an eyebrow.
Both the man's eyebrows returned the favor. "Two bags; one is for you." At this, the girl put her hand on her mouth in shock and nearly started to cry. Her thoughts, her suspicions about this, had finally and joyously been confirmed. All this time, he had known. They had known. It was true. She had been chosen for him.
"Are you ready?"
A nod.
And then two figures leapt out into the open city; ready, ecstatic, longing, to return to their homeland. The day was September 18, 1999.
THE END.