Alexa knew the rain mirrored the storm within. Rooftop pronouncements of destiny felt like a cruel joke. Max, her childhood friend, used her as a bridge to another girl, leaving her heartbroken. Grief for her lost dad bled into a world of fantasy wh...
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The rooftop, usually a place of my past memories, held a new presence tonight. He materialized from the shadows, a tall silhouette framed by the moon. His clothes were a mismatched tapestry of worn leather and faded denim, yet he wore them with an air of quiet confidence.
he said: "Isn't the weather beautiful?" he said, gesturing to the sky. It wasn't a question, but it wasn't patronizing either. It was just a simple statement.
I was perched precariously on the edge, the world tilting on its axis. He didn't ask why I was there, what demons I was fighting with . Instead, he talked about the view, about the wind, about anything but my despair. For the first time in a long time, I felt a connection, not of pity, but of genuine human interaction
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We talked, not about me, not about my grief. He spoke of the constellations he could barely see through the city lights, about the way the wind carried the scent of faraway rain. For the first time in a long time, I felt a connection, not of forced sympathy.
It was a lifeline thrown across the chasm of my despair. "Edward," he offered, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. He gestured towards the vast expanse of the night sky, the city lights twinkling like scattered diamonds below. "sometimes in life we need to enjoy some moments," he continued, his voice laced with a melancholic wisdom, "As moments are fleeting treasures. We must savor them, for time, as they say, is a relentless tide.
"The words washed over me, strangely familiar. A nagging echo played in the back of my mind, a memory half-formed, a whisper from a forgotten dream. "As they say," he'd phrased it. As who says? Why did this simple sentence feel like a fragment of a long-lost conversation, a conversation I never had? A prickle of unease crawled up my spine, but it was overshadowed by the strange pull I felt towards this enigmatic stranger. and then, just as quickly, said he had to leave. "Maybe I'll see you around sometime," he said with a smile, a warm, genuine one that reached his eyes.
For the first time, the rooftop wasn't a place of refuge tinged with sorrow, but a canvas splashed with the vibrant hues of the unexpected. The city lights, usually a dull thrum of indifference, now twinkled like scattered constellations. Edward's presence, a strange anomaly in my familiar haven, had somehow shifted my perspective. The night, once a witness to countless tear-stained nights and memories I desperately tried to erase, became a canvas for new possibilities. For the first time, I truly saw the beauty in the view, a beauty I'd been blind to in my self-imposed exile. As the moon traced its path across the inky sky, my thoughts weren't consumed by the suffocating weight of the past, but by the enigma that was Edward. His words, his very presence, had sparked a flicker of hope, a curiosity that refused to be extinguished. That stranger....... he had become the most captivating puzzle I'd ever encountered. I was just thinking about that stranger:" Edward........"
