Partner One closed the door to her Honda Civic, hearing the lock beep.
She began making her way towards the local Starbucks, where she'd be meeting Partner Two, another strange, mysterious boy in her creative writing class. It was her second term at the local community college, excelling prior in term one philosophy, grading a high-ranked 92%. Partner One wasn't a big writer outside of academic assignments, but with time running last minute to select a term two course, she had figured it would be good to push her skills. Younger in her life, she'd often entertain scenarios of herself famous as a young child, so a little creativity was brewing behind her more academic-focused assets.
Mr. Edwards, the creative writing professor, had assigned pairs to review each others' stories, then meet outside of class and give feedback. In fact, this particular assignment was worth 30% of their grade, so it was essential that she read Parter Two's stories in detail, to give him well-critiqued feedback. She went as far as taking detailed notes on her phone, tagging certain pages and quotations.
After crossing the street and entering the coffee shop, she recognized Partner Two sitting in the corner on his laptop, wearing shades indoors to hide his stoic eyes. She found that rather odd, but always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt.
"Hello," she said, approaching the table. "Sorry I'm a few minutes late."
"Don't mention it," he replied in a monotone voice, a dramatic pause between the two. "How are you doing today?" His gaze remained on his laptop, the shades still upon his ominous eyes.
"I'm okay." She took out her phone. "Do you usually come here?"
"Sometimes. You wanna get anything?"
"I might get a coffee later. I'm fine for now."
"I see." His personality seemed so laid back and dull. It was clear he was a man of little words, although when reading his writings she'd been taken aback. He knew how to put characters together and create a compelling plot, but she did home some constructive criticism regarding the content.
"Shall we begin?" He continued to gaze at his laptop, still refusing to take off the sunglasses.
"Sure. I'm ready."
"I didn't get to the final assignment yet, but managed to finish the first two."
"That's okay. I didn't finish the third one either." She adjusted her chair. "Would you like to go first?"
"Alright." He closed a document, then opened the set of notes he'd written for her stories. "First off, I think your characters are boring and your punctuation is barely beyond par."
She sat there frozen.
Wow, she thought to herself. He really doesn't hold back.
He paused, before eventually replying, "However, you do have compelling arguments in your stories. You mentioned you took Philopshy first term right?"
She nodded her head, a mental breath escaping that he had a somewhat personality.
"I could tell. I thought in the second story you convinced me the protagonist's views and beliefs were justified by her sister leaving the family." He was referring to the farm story she had written for the second assignment. The story revolved around a single mother, Pamela, trying to regain hope after the end of World War 2, attempting to regain what remains of the farm. To which she falls in love with a longing soldier rescued from the village town, an old-school romance flick.
