Story-stand

{FICTION}

Sitting leisurely in the coffee shop for the past 45 minutes, time seem to slip out of my hands, but I hardly bothered.. I was alone but not lonely.. What is the difference one may ask.. Isn’t there a difference? I would reply.

The second black coffee was almost complete and I had already ordered for the third one, the boy who serves, was just peeping once in a while at my side, just to see if it was time to refill. It seemed to him that I was waiting for some one.. was I? I am not sure.. the wait had been for so long that I forgot for whom and what.. I just waited...

 I took the “Fountainhead” that lay upside down in front of me, I didn’t need a bookmark, the whole book was mine, like my room. To some, “familiarity breeds contempt” but to me, it breeds passion, the deep rooted passion that prolongs and deepens my wait… Why Fountainhead? I was not sure, my mood was rebellious, just like every other day.. but today it reached the peak, that I needed some thing to dampen it, but I took something that amplifies it.. No anxiety encircled me, I knew his future, good triumphs over evil without the ideology getting tampered, my evil mind was not ready to accept it, I wanted him to suffer and may be suffer more to the edge where doubt would encircle him, I loathed Rand that every one has a break point and he must too.. If he did break.. Would I be waiting for him now..

As I let him sink deeper, she came in too.. I didn’t resist, there was no envy but a mere satisfaction of true worship.. I had given her a face, features of a girl I had known long ago. It suited her well but he remained faceless and vague. Every time I reach the peak of imagination to draw him in mind, it rejects and shoots back the pencil leaving me with an incomplete sketch, but today I saw him clearly, sitting in the opposite table, sipping coffee. Was it the rush of caffeine or did my mind respond finally? There he was!!! sitting leisurely the angular nose, sharp striking and intelligent eyes, hollow cheeks and rigid lips that considered thrice before smiling and those long slender fingers that held the coffee mug like a true possessor, he enchanted me with his appearance.. Every thing was perfect, just the way I excepted, except the hair, it was not orange flame, but the charred burnt soot, curly and tied to a little pony. I picturized it free and rebellious, fighting the mighty wind. I preferred it that way!!

I didn’t turn when he looked in my direction, I didn’t blush, I just gazed. My heart didn’t beat faster, nor did my hair behind the ears shoot up straight, no butterflies in my stomach.. 

Haven’t I known him so long, and finally it set in me.. that the familiarity didn’t breed contempt or passion; It bred freedom to my endless unfinished sketches. Our eyes met, how long I didn’t know. But when I did know, I swiftly got up, paid the bill and walked away as fast as I could, before he decides to make the move or at least smile.. As I turned the corner, I saw the trail of an amused stare leave me too. What if he speaks, what if he proves to be just simple.. what if he is a beautifully painted Urn with nothing but boasty air inside.. should I risk my Roark? I wouldn't..

I knew that I would never ever see him again; this one look however was enough for me to have him visit me again and again. Every time I open the book, every time I thought of it, every time I felt for it, he would be there as my One–storystand! and just that..!