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Alexander Gabriel Gray
Eighteen /\ Comp Sci Major /\ Black Belt /\Dreamer

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And there it was, that last ray of hope left inside the box.  Why else would she volunteer the information about the Diner still being opened if she wasn’t open to the idea of reconciliation?  At least, that was  the thoughts that brought about the smile that touched into his eyes just a second before he broke away from her suspicious gaze.  She was right to be suspicious, he did have an agenda, and though he hadn’t stood before her door and told her that she was going to forgive him, and that he was going to fix this, that’s what he felt.  Negativity be damned, he was going to fix this., now that he had the chance. 

“Awesome, then I’ll see you at 7, my treat,” he spoke with a slight tilt to his head as though his body understood the question there that tone and delivery didn’t give rise to.  “I’d stick around and bother you some more, but I’ve got to get to gettin’.  I still need to drop by the bookstore, and… why am I telling you this.. sorry.” He smiled, feeling the awkwardness creeping up into him, as though he were trying too hard to keep a reign on himself, or project a positive vibe, or simply ignore the difficulty that had apparently built up between them over the years.  It was obvious he was trying.  It was all too painfully obvious he had an agenda, and exactly what it was blazed as apparent as the sun burned in the sky.  He knew he wasn’t being smooth, or coy, or incredibly creative.  He was being honest… perhaps with a little exaggeration mingled in, but still honest. 

It’s amazing how uncomfortable honesty can be. 

Finally he simply chuckled, and excused himself as he retreated.  So he wasn’t all that graceful in the moment, and he hadn’t thought out beyond the invitation.  Perhaps he needed an exit strategy, or perhaps it would have been fine had she not looked up at him with those eyes of hers.  That was the moment he totally lost it.  The moment that he felt incredibly anxious, nervous, inferior, and yet somehow so at home.  It was like looking into the past… looking into eyes that have been lost to him for years.  Obviously, he couldn’t just stare, though every fiber in his being had wanted to do nothing else.    

So he was kicking himself, mentally, as he walked out of the apartment, and down the hall towards the stairs.  

~ ~ ~
Six thirty found Gabe sitting in the diner, a cup of coffee steaming on the table before him.   The back corner booth, as far away from everyone as he could find, so that they could talk about having to be concerned with ease dropping ears. He changed after practice at the Dojo.  A pair of jean shorts, and a solid green tee.  Nothing flashy, nothing exciting, but they were more comfortable, more relaxed.  His hair was combed an hour ago, but the old habit of running his hands through it in nigh anxiety situations, or low, still held as strong today as it always has, and what was once picture perfect hair, now bore signs of the passage of his fingertips.  Idle, he sipped the coffee, as his mind drew to the present that which time has failed to dull.  He wanted to discuss it, wanted to recall it, to have all the information at the ready.  It was how his mind worked.  He dipped his finger tips in his coffee, placed them on the tabletop, and began to draw small circles.  

And the jukebox turned.  

Gabriel blinked, drew his eyes up to the jukebox, his mind keying into the song.  A favorite of his, released a few years ago.  He hummed the chorus, the song already in full swing.  It was odd how the world seemed to set sound tracks to things.  How music touched him, seemed to fit into his life like pieces of him found along the way.  [i]Wait a minute little back porch lady.. Wait a minute little back porch lady, I’m in love.  [/i]  His eyes looked down, his voice whispering the lyrics of the song. On the table, it’s surface was covered in small circles, hundreds of them, in streaks of creamy brown.

His eyes shot to the clock… six fifty seven.  He wiped the table’s surface with a napkin from the dispenser at the table, picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. It was cold.  Perhaps he had only zoned.  Become too focused on his thoughts, to focused on the music.  His imagine at getting the best of him.  It was nothing.  He wasn’t a kid anymore.  

It was nothing… 
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