The first time he saw the woman was grocery shopping after work one day. He was picking some apples when he happened to look up to see a woman a few bins down carefully choosing some of the fruit. What struck the man was the manner in which she made her selections-slowly and purposefully placing each one in a plastic bag while all around her a commotion of bodies rushed to and from, grabbing items while absorbed in their own whirlwind worlds. But that woman appeared to be in her own bubble of serenity. Walking in front of the bin she stood behind, the man stole a nonchalant glance while at the same moment the woman stopped her action and looked directly at the man. Her eyes were the most fascinating he had ever seen: one was emerald green while the other was ice blue. He found himself staring into them.
"I beg your pardon for staring," the man stammered. Quickly he wheeled his cart away, embarrassed at being caught.
Later that night, the man found himself obsessing about the lady in the store. Lying in his bed, he repeatedly ran their meeting through his brain trying to figure out what compelled him to notice her and act the way he did. Before drifting off to sleep he concluded it was her deliberate actions and her unusual eyes which seemed to, in only seconds, enter into his very soul.
As the weeks went by, the man gradually forgot about the mysterious woman. His day to day life took over again: long work days, bill payments, visiting his elderly parents, depressing news reports, etc. etc. etc. He was looking forward to travelling up north to his shack in the woods for some needed rest and to get things set for the upcoming hunting season. Mainly he enjoyed the quiet and solitude nature offered his soul.
His truck loaded with provisions, the man set off early one weekend morning to his treasured hideaway. The air had a tinge of crispness making it feel like autumn was directly on the doorstep. The farther north he drove, the more the trees turned to a painter's palette of brilliant golds, oranges, and reds. Pulling into a small market near his property, the man planned to buy a steak to cook over a campfire later that evening. As he walked through the door and proceeded down the first aisle to the meat counter, he abruptly stopped in his tracks. The woman with the two-color eyes chose apples at a display in the tiny produce area. Her head slowly turned as she landed her unsettling gaze upon the man again. His heart beat faster as his mouth went dry. He hurriedly brushed past, bumping into her causing the apple she held to fall out of her hand and land with a thud on the floor near the toe of her black boot.
"Oh geez! I beg your pardon, ma'am," the man profusely apologized as he stooped to retrieve the bruised sphere.
The woman stood completely still, frozen like a statue until the man rose. "I fear this apple is no good to me now," she finally spoke. Her accent was not from the area; her voice quiet and smoothly controlled.
"I'll purchase it. It was my fault," the man offered as he fumbled with his pockets.
The woman coolly commented, "How very kind of you. A man of impeccable manners-very rare in this century."
The man blushed and softly chuckled. "I guess my mother raised me well."
"Kudos to Mom."
The man tipped his hat and bid the woman farewell. As he was paying for his goods, he scanned the store behind him for the mysterious woman. To his disappointment, she was nowhere to be found. Driving back to his land, the man began to fixate once again on the woman. How odd she was doing the exact same thing so many miles from the store in the city where he first noticed her her; also, how strange their paths kept crossing. It seemed to be more than a coincidence. At least this time he heard her voice: the clear, soft cadence of her words cascaded into his ears and caressed his sense of hearing. He supposed she could make reading a dictionary sound ethereal. The man rolled his eyes and snickered to himself. "You're acting like a lovesick school boy", he thought as he steered his truck around a corner and to the old wooden bridge that crossed a clear trout stream. The man slowed going over the bridge and glanced over the railing. Colorful leaves dotted the small, blue stream which swiftly swept them away with its current. Autumn had made her appearance.
The road to the man's property was very secluded. Pine trees and mixed hardwoods lined the roadside. Not more than a scant few dwellings were on the road, and the man never saw the owners of these. He was fine with that. This was his place to get away from life, and yet he found life here-or more like a rejuvenation and refreshing of life.
Suddenly the man's mind snapped from his serene daydreams. Ahead of him was the woman slowly walking down the road towards his truck. The man slowed as he approached her. She stopped as the man shifted his truck in park.
"Hello again," he greeted her as she stepped a bit closer to him.
"We do have to stop meeting like this," the woman smirked. "What will the neighbors think?"
The man grinned. "Can I offer you a lift?"
