Sarah and The Wanderer.

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1. Flickering candles cast long shadows over still faces and furrowed brows. The music from the beaten, old, corner piano ceased as soft footfalls hit the boarding on the makeshift porch out the front. The light and air circulating via the old timber plank on rusty hinges, blocked by a silhouette as the footsteps came to a halt in front of the open door… Jansen lifted his duster a fraction higher above his creased map of a forehead, letting the dull light catch his emerald eyes before pushing his way over the threshold, making his way to a distant, shadowed corner and claimed what is probably an occupied stool for his own.

A petite town girl with heaving breasts slinks over tentatively, —She smells like Jasmine and Lilac. A tinge of orange and lemon. Citrus. Hard to come by in these parts. More than she seems?… to ask “What he’s having?” Jansen’s quiet words barely enough to hear, say, “I need 2 steaks, 2 mugs of foam, some salad…” and in a move as quick as a viper, he stands, presses his chest to her shoulder and whispers —You. I would also like you.  Get me what I need and I’ll also need a room. Can you arrange that for me? He passes her a few scraps of silver along with a kiss on the cheek, —Even if you send me to my own bed, I’ll still need a room. She turns back to face him with her eyes scanning the half hidden faces, “My room is upstairs second on the right. When I put out the candles in your corner, knock on my door. I’ll have something for you” she smiles a faint pink and heads back to the bar to place Jansen’s order, casting a smile back over her shoulder that contradicts the earlier approach.

Settled down after his brief hike that took all too long to come, compared to the enduring ride in the back of a carriage, over what seemed like nothing but potholes, and small drops. —Would have been less hassle to walk the 200 miles and camp the heat of the day, walking only when it’s coolest and barely visible, but this way he can save his energy and prepare for what lies ahead in the little town of Tomaego, his guns and blades are itching, his mind is clearing and he has his focus.

Small steps scuff the bare boards next to his chair and 2 well-done steaks with salad and foam invade the table space and Jansen’s thinking. Jans motions for the girl to stop, she does. He turns his head sideways to look at her, he asks her what her name is. “It’s Minnie” comes a squeak of a reply. “Well Minnie, sit with me. I’m but a weary traveller looking for some good company and maybe a little information. It seems quiet enough in here, I’m sure the proprietor of this fine establishment wouldn’t object to his most beautiful and radiant keep tending to the enjoyment of a patron, would you not agree?”

Minnie flushed mildly in what little light there was and Jansen noticed a faint scar on her cheek, sapphire blue eyes and crimson hair. High set cheekbones cast shadows under her eyes, which grew bigger still as she smiled at his comments and flattery. “I don’t think my pa would mind it too much, it is quiet and the kitchen is closed now. Yes, I’ll sit with you, Mr charming stranger”. Jansen smiles  broadly, removes his hat and stands to pull the seat out for his evening companion. ” My name is Jansen. It’s a pleasure to meet you Minnie.” “The pleasures all mine, Mr Jansen. I hope your travels’ to be smooth” And yours also Miss

2. In the bustling town of Main, where the sun is hiding behind a cover of winter storms, walks a 5’6″ snow white sculpture with auburn hair, a splash of freckles across her nose and under her honey gold eyes.

An awkward smile brushes her lips as she greets a colleague at the corner of Main 101 and Central 202. “Morning Greg, how are you going with your mysterious book?” a small, sensitive smile, softy livens her lips. “Ah it’s a struggle Sarah, a real heartache. I’ve hit a wall. Big time.”
“You’ll get over the hump and you’ll flood those pages easier than you could possibly dream” offers the always kind and consoling Sarah. “You’re too kind as always Sarah, if my life was a book, you would be a protagonist. Always helpful, understanding. Where as I would probably be more of a minor character in yours as you set out and fulfil some grand destiny.” A feeling of heat passes through her core at hearing this. “I doubt my life is going to be anymore exciting than it is now. Most excitement I see is when I open a new carton of milk” Sarah chimes with a nervous chuckle. That feeling was still there, barely hanging on.

Posted from amongst the tangled interwebs…

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