Sam's Gift

random chapter, comes after previous chapters i have written.

Sam intrigued me more every day. It was his mischevious smile that always lingered on his lips, the scar that spiraled along the inside of his arm up to his elbow, the tough bad boy look that came so naturally to him. How badly I longed to touch that scar, to kiss that smile. Part of me at least felt that way. The other part felt angry at this stranger for walking into my life so gracefully, and making me feel vulnerable. No one had ever spoken to me as much as he did. He seemed interested in what I had to say. He didn't mind my quietness, and in return I never asked what he was thinking about when he zoned out into space. He did that a lot. Whenever we would meet in that coffee shop, he would look out the window for a moment, as if he was watching or waiting for something.

The fifth time I met him, it had begun to snow. Mothers were forcing their children into snow pants, the crossing guard started handing out candy canes, even the dark, crammed coffee shop had lights hanging from their broken fan. Sam walked in, wearing all black. His sneakers left foot prints along the shops faded floor as he made his way to our little table in the back corner. He sat down across from me and pulled something from under his jacket. It was a book. A leather bound pocket book.

"I want you to have this" he said.

He passed me the book with both hands, as if it was something fragile. When i took it from him my hand brushed up against his palm. His skin was so cold. A small shiver danced along my spine. I unfolded the tie and opened it. Inside were only a few sentences, written in scratchy red pen.

“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” ― J.K. Rowling

underneath another few words were written in slanted letters

When I'm with you, I'm dreaming, and I'm living.

I didn't fully understand what Sam had meant by that, but it had made me smile. I looked up at him and asked "what's this for?"

"Its a journal, I have one that I carry with me everywhere. I know you don't like to talk much, so I figured maybe you'd give writing a shot."

"Thank you" I said. He grinned at me and gestured to the waiter. 

"Can I get you something sir?" the waiter asked. 

"Yes, two caramel lattes please with soy for me."

"Most definitly sir, the blond haired man muttered as he scurried back to the tiny kitchen.


The End

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