The Stranger

It was late November, cold as it could be goose bumps rose atop my skin. I shivered. Stepping into the local shop I was embraced by the warmth of the heat inside. I decided it was wise for me to spend some time before leaving the store; in a few seconds of wandering about, I looked up and there he was. A spruce and dapper young man, he was tall and lean his length seemed to be equal to the shelf he was standing beside. I felt tiny.

I took one step aside to hide myself; I didn’t want him to become conscious of being watched. I stood staring, wondering what was so fascinating about this man and I was desperate to find out and for more moments to come, this reason eluded me. I fixated on scrutinizing him from his head.

His hair was pitch black like every source of light had been sucked out of it. It could have been darker than ebony and was perfectly coiffed. It looked like it was placed deliberately on his head for a competition. His face, I protruded my head to see closer. It was spotless serene and calm he seemed at peace as he read the label on a can. His dark hazel nut eyes could not be real they were bright and alluring as they drew me into a maze. I was hypnotized. A few seconds later he smiled. It shone like a fire fly alight.

His shirt was well pressed, so flat it attached itself to his body; it revealed hands elongated and trim. They seemed to have been strangely moulded exceptionally for his odd physique. I looked on and his legs we lean and seemed as weak as wings on a cockroach. I imagined him taking a step and crumbling right before my eyes but he didn’t; each step elegant in its stride like a peacock. He walked away.

At this local shop, Mother Nature’s work of art, the soaring, brown-eyed stranger, looking so innocent seemed a master piece...