"Hey", he said smiling nervously. Like a newborn baby who has just entered the world, he peeked into her eyes with fascination. She, herself was perplexed. At once she had two completely different yet not that contrasting emotions running through her head - she was scared as well as curious. Just like she had been while stepping into the seats for her first roller coaster ride of her life. Scared to think what might happen yet curious to know what will. As he came near her to untie the rope that held her hands behind her back, she felt his deep breaths on her neck. His cold hands touched her wrist and her warm blood rushed to her cold pale fingertips.
The green canvas shoes, the cheap pair of jeans, the hand-knit woolen sweater, unkempt hairs touching the rim of his glasses. He didn't look like your everyday crook. Yes, tall he was, a well-built body frame too. There was something about his body language that indicated that he was vulnerable rather than threatening. And his eyes, they had a certain innocence in them, just like a lost puppy who just wants to be loved, to be cared for. His eyes were the reflection of his soul. The soul that was hungry for love. He was just eleven years old when he lost his mother to leukemia. The inability of his father to save her broke all the chords of affection his father ever had inside him. He now spent twenty odd hours, seven days a week, in the packaging factory, operating machinery, trying to hide the voice of his conscience calling him a loser with the noise of machines lifting things, dropping stuff.
He had been looking in her eyes for quite sometime now. Her beautiful hazel eyes reminded him of the lucid lake he had once seen at his grandparent's place.
"Who are you??", she inquired, after she had settled in an old wooden chair.
"I..I", he stammered just like a guy does when a girl of his dreams is standing in front of him. The simple innate process of opening the lips, rolling the tongue and speaking seemed like an Herculean task.
"C'mon speak up, who the hell are you", she screamed. Maybe her scream was what he needed to gather some courage.
Clearing his throat, he adjusted his glasses and nervously said " I first saw you at...."
The green canvas shoes, the cheap pair of jeans, the hand-knit woolen sweater, unkempt hairs touching the rim of his glasses. He didn't look like your everyday crook. Yes, tall he was, a well-built body frame too. There was something about his body language that indicated that he was vulnerable rather than threatening. And his eyes, they had a certain innocence in them, just like a lost puppy who just wants to be loved, to be cared for. His eyes were the reflection of his soul. The soul that was hungry for love. He was just eleven years old when he lost his mother to leukemia. The inability of his father to save her broke all the chords of affection his father ever had inside him. He now spent twenty odd hours, seven days a week, in the packaging factory, operating machinery, trying to hide the voice of his conscience calling him a loser with the noise of machines lifting things, dropping stuff.
He had been looking in her eyes for quite sometime now. Her beautiful hazel eyes reminded him of the lucid lake he had once seen at his grandparent's place.
"Who are you??", she inquired, after she had settled in an old wooden chair.
"I..I", he stammered just like a guy does when a girl of his dreams is standing in front of him. The simple innate process of opening the lips, rolling the tongue and speaking seemed like an Herculean task.
"C'mon speak up, who the hell are you", she screamed. Maybe her scream was what he needed to gather some courage.
Clearing his throat, he adjusted his glasses and nervously said " I first saw you at...."
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