Storytime.

My plot exercise for fiction:

He was cold. For some reason the thermostat in the building was still set to its unnaturally low state, despite the fact that it was getting colder outside. He pulled his jacket on as he walked over to the window. He longed for the day to be over and to be able to go home. As he stared through the window he looked down at the bench were he knew she’d be. She was so beautiful—even through the distance, he knew she was. Everything about her was masterful. She was sitting with her dog, as always—a large German Shepherd. He wanted nothing more than to talk to her, but he really had no idea what he would say if he did. The longer he stood and stared, and the colder he got, the less afraid he felt, and moments later he was walking across the street toward the bench.

He walked slowly over to her, holding his jacket tightly to him. The wind was cold on his face and he wondered if she was cold—sitting jacketless in this frigid air. He supposed things felt differently to her. As he grew closer to her, the dog lifted its face to greet him—it looked slightly as though it were smiling. He smiled back, but then a sickening feeling hit his stomach full force and he realized the stupidity of his actions; he started to walk away. The startling sound of the dog barking made him jump and stop walking.

“Is someone there, boy?” she said in a voice that sounded like music. He felt the breath leave his lungs for a moment as he heard the sound of beauty. She patted the top of the dog’s head gently, and then raised her face to the air and said, “Is someone there?” The dog barked again in his direction and she turned her face toward him. “Hello? Is someone there?” she repeated. He hesitated, but only briefly this time, “Yes. I—I’m waiting for the bus,” he lied and sat down on the bench next to her.

“Oh. Me, too,” she answered before falling silent again. He sat quietly and looked at her. He soaked in every feature of her face—the tiny lines forming in various places from laughing, her rosy cheeks and nose—likely from being cold—gave life to her face, and her eyes were the color of the sky right before twilight. He stared at them—and thought that it was truly tragic that she was so breathtakingly beautiful and would never know it. He wanted to start a conversation with her—but the longer he stared at her, the more inferior he felt. He stood up abruptly, having realized he no longer wanted her to know him, to know who he was. Who was he to her, anyway? A nobody. As he started to walk away, the dog barked again, although slightly less jilting this time.

"What is it, boy?” she said quietly to the dog. “Are you not taking the bus anymore?” she said to the air again. It took him a moment to realize that she was addressing him. He looked at her, and then looked down at the dog. He wondered briefly if the dog could be used to his advantage.

“I think I might walk,” he finally said, “I’m not too far away from where I’m going, anyhow.” She nodded and made a soft noise of affirmation. He looked down at the dog again. He could talk about her dog—but, he wondered how far that would get him in a conversation, especially now that he’d already said a sort of goodbye. He didn’t want to seem pushy or forward, seeing as he wasn’t even sure what he was doing talking to her in the first place.

When he finally spoke again it felt like it had been a million lifetimes. “Your dog is beautiful.” She jumped a little. It was clear that she’d been under the impression that he had in fact walked away. She sighed, and then said, “Thank you.” She patted the dog on the head and sighed again. “He does me well.” He looked at her face and could see a sort of odd happiness in it. He knew that it must be difficult to be in a situation like hers, but some days he wished he could go without seeing the horrors of the world. He thought about saying something else, but was interrupted mid-thought by someone yelling his name.

“Ted! Get back over here—boss man wants to see you!” He turned looked up at his office window where a co-worker was frantically waving his arms. He stood and looked, but didn’t react, and it wasn’t until he heard the blaring horn that he even realized he’d walked into the road. When he was safely back on the other side of the street, he stood and caught his breath. He heard the dog barking frantically and looked over in their direction. She was standing up trying to calm the dog down, saying, “It’s okay boy! It was just a horn.” He was fully aware of how unaware she was that he’d almost been killed. He walked back into his office building and as he was climbing the stairs he thought back over the events of the last 15 minutes of his life. In that moment, he knew he’d never be that brave again.