For a moment he raised his head and by the dim streetlight he saw her. For years he has seen her walk past the house. For years he wished she would stop, say something, smile at him in a deeper way than between neighbors. Then she was gone. She was not the vision of perfection, not even to him, but she presented all that he ever wanted in a woman. He had known her all his life - as children they played in the same neighborhood, they went to the same schools, so close and never reachable.
Angrily he turned away. Dressed all in black his tall figure seemed to have melted into the shadows of the house. He felt tired. Years of playing the dating games have left him scarred and bereft. The games which he played eagerly al those years seemed to have lost their charm. This feeling would subdue, he knew. He'd had it whenever he saw her walk past, when he felt the urge to whisper to her a few words of truth, when in his mind, she wanted the same thing as he did and would succumb to honesty. In his mind he thought that the bars of society prevent him from telling her his dreams, prevent her from telling him hers. Resting his hand on the doorknob he looked down. "I need exercise," he muttered "and a plastic surgeon". He didn't. He was attractive with piercing green/gray eyes, which were enough to melt most girls. Slightly overweight more with frustration than with food, his posture was impressive. The scars and insecurity left him arrogant and sinister. The eyes that could melt were cold, his looks as if carved of stone served most to drive people away.
The house was an inn. It had large, heavy wooden tables and long benches next to them. in the air hung the constant smell of smoke and beer mixed with a tint of garlic which dominated most of the dishes. Going behind the bar he poured himself the strong house brew and began preparing to close down for the night. It was late, most people at this part of town would be fast asleep. Bitterly he thought that she wouldn't. He knew there would be a lit window in her house where she would be working on her thesis. Maybe if he continued with university rather than opening the inn she would have noticed him.
Pouring another glass of the ice cold house brew he sat down to have some of tonight's pasta. You never get the chance to eat when there are clients and friends around. Just as he was beginning to feel the weight of his day lift the lights turned out. Glancing out he could see that the entire town was pitch black. Cursing he cast a look at the dying flame of the fire place, red amber which gave little light and only cast long shadows. "I knew I should have changed batteries in that torch," he thought to himself as he pulled out of the chair to look for a candle. Wobbling on his feet he knew that he drunk too much that evening.
The soft rapping on the door was barely audible. For a moment he thought that a log cracked at the fireplace. But the rapping repeated, even if hesitating. He walked toward the door. There by the shadows cast from the fireplace he could just barely make out her form. Raising an eyebrow in renewed interest he waited for her to speak. She was obviously nervous and her voice trembled a little. "er... I'm sorry to disturb you, but my lights.. well... everybody's lights blacked out, and I really have to work on my thesis, and was wondering if you have a torch or a candle to spare?"
For a moment he was silent, absorbing her figure as she was standing in the freezing wind. "Sure," he said. "Always happy to help a neighbor. C'mon in. you shouldn't be standing in the freezing wind." She brushed lightly against him as she entered the warm tavern and thankfully headed towards the dying fireplace. He helped her with her coat, his hands brushing her neck as he did. He could feel warmth ignite within him. He opened the candle box on the mantelpiece only to discover that it's empty.
