This is what happens when a friend sends me a text message asking me to tell her something. It’s nothing big, I thought it up in almost no time, but I’d still like to have it on here. Who knows, it might mean something someday.
Clementine is wandering aimlessly through the city that she’s known her whole life. The towering presence of the buildings used to give her comfort, a sense of stability, but not anymore. Clementine has this feeling of longing buried deep inside of her chest. She wants to pull it out, to shake it and ask “what do you want?”, but it’s too far for her to reach. And so the feeling remains a familiar stranger, unknown but oh so present. Without realizing it, she stops at the bridge that crosses the river, and leans over to look at the stream. Calmly, she starts humming a song under her breath. Islands in the stream. What does that even mean? Clementine grows frustrated. Why does everything always have to be so damn difficult? Always so hard to grasp. She huffs and kicks a stray piece of gravel on the ground. A chuckle interrupts her grumbles and she stops. That voice is familiar. Clementine turns around and is met by the grey eyes that, she hadn’t noticed until now, screamed home. Pedro. He gives her a beaming smile and asks: “Something bothering you?” “Life.” she answers, the corners of her lips twitching. Pedro silently walks up to her and picks up two stones off the ground. He holds one out for her and she takes it. “At least know that you’re not alone.” he says. At the sound of these words, something lifts. Clementine can feel the longing snaking its way upward until it’s at the very top of her lungs. She can’t help but let out a loud, tinkling laugh of exhilaration, and Pedro just smiles. As if this is completely normal. In this moment, something passes between them. Something that can’t be described. Pedro gives Clementine a look that says “Go ahead.” and for some reason, she knows exactly what he means. Clementine takes a deep breath, never breaking eye contact. “One. Two. Three!” Two stones are hurled through the air and hit the water. The sound of them breaking the surface is small, but the importance is immense. Two stones together, and never alone.
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And then I just started thinking about who this Clementine might be, and thought of these small (fictional) facts.
Clementine has tan skin and soft, shiny black curls and walnut-shaped eyes. She’s short and curvy. She loves Janis Joplin, Dusty Springfield and Joan Mitchell. A hippy at heart but not very free-spirited in thought. Bad at thinking outside of the box.
She also has a slight southern twang that comes out when she gets upset or excited. She got it from her grandmother, a sweet southern lady from Texas, who practically raised her while her mother worked late shifts at the ER.
So yeah, there it is. She’s a nice girl, that one.
The Irregular One 