08-27-2009

Continued from 08-26-2009...

Start Fiction:


     Ginny walked away from the police cruisers that had gathered once again at the jewelry store. She had watched enough CSI and Forensic Files to know the police watch the crowds as offenders like to visit the scene among the chaos they have instilled.
     She was too smart for that; but was her silhouetted fellow liberator? Ginny stopped at the corner and was torn. She had seen several mistakes he had made as a professional, but it was too risky for her, regardless how much she wanted to find the man again.
     Dang.
     She watched the events down the block for several minutes and her rational side got the best of her. Ginny sighed and turned the corner and as knocked down. She had literally ran into the man from the roof top.
     "Miss,"'he said with a British accent, "I am so terribly sorry. " He held out his hands and helped Ginny to her feet. He was about six foot, slender build, soft hands. He was quite a handsome fellow; strong jaw line, piercing blue eyes, wavy brown hair. "Are you alright?"
     Ginny gathered herself once in her feet. There was still apt going on in the neighborhood. It was not the time to lose her head anymore than she had already this evening.
     "I am sorry," she said, "I have always been rather clumsy." She shook her head, tossing her hair a bit. Ginny gazed in to his eyes for a few seconds and then realized she was still holding his hands. "Sorry," she said letting go.
     "Not at all. I wasn't even looking when I came round the corner," he said. "I can't say I have ever knocked down someone as charming as you."
     Ah crap, she thought.
     "Perhaps we will meet again," he said. "Are you from around here? Perhaps we may bump in to each other again." Ginny let out a girly laugh. She caught herself and focused as another police cruiser rolled around the corner.
     "No, actually," she said, "I just dropped in on an old friend and don't get up here much these days." She tossed her hair again; she couldn't help it, it was completely involuntary.
     "Too bad," he said. "Maybe we'll just have to accept where fate leads us."
     "I suppose," she said. She wanted to know his name, to tell him hers; the compulsions were driving her mad. Her lack of self control around this person, this male, was causing her mental discomfort.
     "Until then," he said as he tipped an imaginary hat and walked around the corner back towards all the action.
     Until then.



End Fiction.