stranger

two

FRANCIS MEANT FREE MAN. And her name was Saoirse, which meant freedom.

Saoirse never met him before. Not that she often met people. He was well-known for his bright, sarcastic, and barbaric speech in every debate showdown. She should admit that he was an attractive young man. The list of girl names he dated was longer than a monthly grocery list. Like his name, he was a free man, a free soul.

Francis walked to her direction. His eyes fixated on an empty chair beside her, which was the only one left in the room. Saoirse didn't say anything when he finally sat next to her. She tried not to look, focusing on a cigarette slipped between her long fingers.

He glanced at her but didn't say a word. She was beautiful in a loose shirt, the sleeve rolled onto her arms showing a glimpse of her milky skin. His gaze soon shifted to Garry, the leader of the club, who clapped his hands, asking everyone's attention. Today's discourse was about to start.

The phone in his pocket was vibrating. New message from Sara, his current girlfriend: movie night tonight? Francis sighed and typed a quick reply: sorry, at a club gathering. The relationship with Sara was on a rocky road lately. It was fine before she nagged over silly things, especially his busy schedule.

He ignored the vibration in his pocket this time. The heated discussion in the room was his main attention. Saoirse bit the inner side of her cheek, holding a cruel comment for the speaker's opinion about the book he didn't even read. On the other hand, Francis got up from his chair, raising a hand to interrupt the speech.

Do you even read the book itself? Francis asked. The room was silent, too silent, so we could hear the gulping sound from the speaker's throat. Francis continued his interruption, delivering his sharp objection with a calm demeanor. She was swooning to hear his postulate in the end. That was smart, really smart.

Saoirse looked at him. Saoirse looked at him but when he finished talking to the audience, she stared at her boots. She imagined talking to him in person. Curiosity crept on her mind. Wondering what was inside his brain, covered with soft honeyed hair and a granite skull.

Saoirse crashed the cigarette with the sole of her boot. She got up and sauntered to Tobias, ignoring Francis's gaze on her back. She whispered, I need to go home, Tobias. He frowned at first but nodded and waved everyone for farewell. Francis didn't have a chance to speak with her. His eyes followed her figure to the exit while touching the chair where she sat. The warmth of her body was still there.

His phone vibrated once again. It was from his dear Sara: we're over.