Snippet #907

“You are right,”

I was? Well yes, I suppose I was. Still, I had expected his words to be more heavily laced with bewilderment at my intellectual faux pas. Maybe he had not heard? Ahh... one could hope, though maybe he was simply used to people saying odd things. I suppose, if he is mad, then he would hear a myriad of strange things quite often and be rather accustomed to them by now.

The man drew himself rather wearily to his feet. The slight strain with which he did so was not that odd considering current circumstances and yet I felt as if his limbs moved with more fatigue than tiredness or rain alone ought to induce.

Perhaps he carries some ponderous burden with him- No sooner than that thought had finished meandering across my frontal cortex, lightning bore through the stratosphere once again.

The way in which it lit up the man was rather jarring, yet it was this that galvanised my mind; it reminded me of the crudeness of such mawkish thoughts. To think that I could infer such things from subtle body language when all was so lowery? That such a nascent bond would ripen so, when the mans name was not even known to me?

In truth this was simply just what I wished for; to pretend he was someone with whom I could share my pains and my worries, regardless of my problems actual worth. To pretend that he was a brother or a friend, instead of the unknown quantity that he was. It was comforting to see him in this fashion. Yet any such thoughts were soon suppressed when the man spoke thusly;

“Come, let us take shelter.”

An idea I could certainly get behind. Yet I stayed still, unsure what to do; both this mans motives and actions were terribly abstruse to me. He, however, seemed to have no such qualms about walking through the rain with a stranger--he had begun his ascent up the hill. A few dozen thoughts clouded my mind once again, the foremost of them harping on about the importance of not following strangers at night, but the lethargy that attacked my limbs and the barrage of raindrops that pelted my clothes forced one thought forward:

Honestly, what is the likelihood of meeting anyone more desirable out here?

My reasoning was sound enough and so the line of consciousness continued: I should follow him. This thought earned plaudits from my limbs as they began their oddly alacritous ascent upward with a steady march. It seemed company and respite from the rain were more important to me than I had realised. Certainly more than my own safety at least.

After several steps I realised that the distance between us had receded partially. It was certainly not due to any haste on my part: my movement, although steady, was slow and lethargic. In fact, it was because the man had stopped. Maybe in thought?

My actions were once again cast into doubt, though I daren't stop moving lest I become unable to start again; I merely slowed down as the distance receded more and more. After a quick internal monologue I decided that simply passing him would be foolish when I had no idea where this shelter was, so instead I would stride beside him--at a safe distance of course--and suggest we not stop.

Although first I decided that offering my name would be the polite thing to do. So, rapidly approaching his side, I did just that:

"Charlotte..." hesitation caused partially by doubt and partially by the realisation that such a sentence would only force more clarity to be sought, I added:

"...my name." I quickly decided that the completed sentence I had cobbled together was rather confusing, so I rushed out another:

"I mean: that is... my name."

"Charlotte," I affirmed again due to the fear that originally my voice not been heard. Although, oddly enough, I neglected to speak louder the second time.