Simple Story

She sat at the table directly to my side, her eyes facing the side of my face. I had only sat down a moment before her. She was blonde, cute, relaxed, her black MacBook betraying her trendiness, her white oversized Burton headphones framing her face, betraying her coolness.

I didn't look over -- much -- it's hard not to notice someone checking you out when you are in their immediate line=of-sight. I just kept to my computer, to my scripts, to my little world.

Soon, "Starbucks will be closing in 4 minutes," rang the annoyed voice of a Barista who clearly felt we were the enemy, to be shot should we violate their time by even a second.

I was still chatting online, so I grabbed my laptop and stepped outside plopping on the raised bricks so I could finish my conversation. She had packed up and with her trendy bag had began to walk away but she stopped, I think seeing me. I looked up at her as she came back and smiled.

She was pretty but without the frills. She was in pink flip-flops, navy sweatpants and a slightly lighter shaded sweatshirt. Her hair was a bit of a dirty blonde, probably dyed, and down to her chin. She seemed serious -- a woman with a mission.

She sat down on the bricks with me, just 4ft away and pulled out her black MacBook as the door beside her was locked as the last straggler was ushered out. I smiled to myself, I have no complaints and continue my rather serious online conversation.

She types away madly on her MacBook, rarely looking up, never looking at me. Occasionally, she pulls papers out of her bag, large swaths of paper, flipping through, looking for something and then typing.

We sit, off the sidewalk on the raised bricks, looking out toward the street, over the sidewalk as bar-hoppers trek up and down the hill. Her headphones cover her ears and she'll stop from time-to-time to look at her phone. I pull out my phone and check it, then laugh as I realize I copied her behavior.

She doesn't notice, just types madly.

The mist begins to roll in. It looks like fog but the clear specs of spray mean it's mist. It's fairly thick, becoming a river above the dark street, illuminated by the streetlights, traffic signals, and bright headlights.

I look over at her as the store workers finish closing and lock the door, I want to say, "Well, I think we outlasted them." or something, anything, to start up a conversation, to strike her interest. She doesn't look over and I can't bring myself to interrupt her typing. My black earbuds still piping music into my ears, her white headphones still filling her's.

I reach for my backpack, pulling out some Altoids in a tin. I take one and then, almost instinctively, offer her one. She looks up at me, smiles and takes one. I smile back and watch her. I put the tin back in my backpack and she's returned to her MacBook, typing madly.

An hour has passed since we left the warm confines of inside. The mist is still rolling in as if some distant waves have crashed violently into a shore and sprayed water high and wide where it forgot how to fall back down into the ocean and so it just kept floating. To be taken by the breeze and lightly kiss every it touches with some droplets.

A couple stops to talk to her as they trek up the hill and she's removing her headphones. They ask her what she's doing, "I'm a fashion student." They're surprised, they didn't imagine there'd be so much writing. Nor would I. She's friendly as her finger drifts up to the power button on her laptop. With a quick push, she puts it to sleep. Closing the lid and sliding it into her green tote bag.

I take out an earbud and the couple asks me what I'm working on... I'm an actor, of course, not writing a script as they propose but writing a friend.

She's getting ready to leave and I ask where she got her headphones. "I think they're Burton." She checks, turning them over in her hands as she coils the wire. "Yes, Burton, definitely."

I ask her name... "Alisa."

"Nice. How would you spell that?"

"Alyssa."

"You're parents must have loved you to do that."

She gave a bit of a laugh. It was a lovely name, completely unique. She was cool though, in her responses, so disinterested. She was packed and she asked my name. I gave it.

"Nice to meet you."

And with that she turned and took the few steps up to the nearby lightpost and crossed the street, the mist streaming all around her. She crossed again and disappeared.

Alyssa.

Girl of the Mist.