Gray Days

Last week at this time, I was luxuriating outdoors, enjoying the blissful warmth of a spring evening. Today, I sit in my room wearing several layers, a blanket draped over my shoulders. Large, fluffy flakes fall heavily, lightly frosting the tips of the bushes outside my window. I cannot deny that I am a little chagrined by the turn of events, but such is the fickle nature of the weather. So what is one to do when trying to pass time while feeling trapped indoors?  Work on the next part of the story I shared last week. I didn't get very far this week. I am still trying to reconnect with my characters and the story between them. (I even did some research earlier by walking outside in this bitter cold weather...well, it wasn't really research, but I did try to think of reasons why anyone would be determined to walk in foul weather come hell or high water...)  Anyway, below is what I came up with...it is beginning to be more of a character study than anything else. I need to introduce more plot elements, I think...

Her gaze swept the room, hunting for anything that might give her a clue what kind of person she had followed home. The small apartment was sparsely furnished but tidy. A large bookshelf dominated the far wall, a mishmash of titles filling it to capacity. While an improvement over the wind and rain outdoors, the air was cool, as if heat were a luxury he couldn’t quite afford. No pictures hung on the wall, and the distinct lack of personal effects left her feeling uneasy. She was used to the idea of a home being warm and inviting, not that she herself had ever felt that kind of comfort in her own house. When she had agreed to follow this man back to his place, a small part of her hoped that he would be an answer to her prayers, providing her with an infusion of warmth lacking in her current life. The cold sterility of the room deflated all hopes, and she felt resigned to the fact that this wasn’t going to the defining moment that changes the course of her life irrevocably.

He watched her as she took in the room in its entirety, trying to gauge what her reaction was to be. He felt foolish inviting her back, knowing that his place was not what he had wanted it to be, at least not yet. He had only recently moved in, leaving many of his possessions in his parents’ care. Soon, he hoped to dress the walls with photographs, artwork, anything to breathe some life into this Spartan existence. But for now, all he could offer was a cup of tea and a place to stay dry. This curious young woman needed something, and even though he knew better than to think he was the one to give it to her, something compelled him to step outside of his normally quiet life to invite her in.

“I’m Thomas, by the way.” She turned to see his hand extended, waiting for her to shake it.

“Emma.”

“Um…the washroom is down the hall, if you want to er, freshen up a bit. I’ll put the kettle on for some tea, if that’s alright?”

How British, she thought with an inward smile. “Thank you. That sounds lovely.” She headed to the bathroom as he turned to the kitchen.