>Untitled Part I

>The sun shone bright on that October morning as had been for the past few weeks. The weather couldn’t be argued with. The leaves had been steadily falling for a few weeks painting the world in shades of brown, orange, and red. The leaves rustled together as the cool wind rushed through them bringing a sense of a fresh new day.

Pierre rose from his rocking chair on his balcony window where he sat sipping his café au lait, watching the splendor of nature as he did each and every morning. This morning was different than most, school was closed for a holiday which meant that he could spend his day relaxing, working on his novel (to which he felt was good but that the dream of publication was a long way off), and watching NFL Network as long as he pleased.

He had been an English teacher at his small town’s high school for a little over 3 years and still loved every minute of it. He loved reading and writing but that was not his passion, his passion was to watch the children he taught grow into young men and women better equipped for the world and making it better than before they had entered it.

As he sat down to his computer, coffee in hand, he opened the file for his book and turned on his “writing music” consisting mostly of Bob Dylan and John Mellancamp. Before he could engross himself in his writing, his phone rang. It was his sister whom he spoke to most everyday. She was one of the most successful pediatric surgeons in the country. People came from all over the country for her to work her magic. Mostly their phone calls consisted of “how are you” and making dinner plans with her and her husband, but this call was different.

“You’re going out tonight,” she said.
“Hello to you too, and I hate to burst your bubble but I don’t think going out tonight is an option, Hoosiers are on tonight at 8 playing for The Bucket.”
“Record it, this can’t wait.”
“Might I ask what, it is?”
“Well, it’s more of a she.”
“Ok, you must be crazy, you know I don’t do blind dates.”
“She is a one of my new nurses and she is perfect for you. I made us reservations at Michelangelo’s, you know the little Italian place on 5th, for 7:30. Dress nice and don’t be late, you won’t regret it, I promise.”
“Yeah, okay, like the last one went so well,” he said with sarcasm.
“The last one turned out to be crazy, this one is completely normal, I gave her a complete inspection for you.”
He laughed, “fine I will be there, but if she turns out to be crazy then you are buying my dinner.”
“Deal,” she said. “Oh, I’m so happy! You all will be perfect together, but I have to go now, I have an appointment in five minutes, see you tonight!”

The cheerfulness of her voice was almost enough to make one sick but he knew that he judgment was normally pretty good with a few exceptions. As he delved back in to the imaginary world of his story, the thought of this “perfect” woman quickly faded out of his mind and was replaced with thoughts of how to deepen his characters.

As he prepared his self for dinner he glanced in to the mirror for a quick once-over. He was a normal sized man, about 6’ 1”, with dark blonde hair almost the color of maple wood, his eyes were blue with a light tent of blue to them. His cheeks had a slight flush of pink to them but his skin was in excellent condition. If one examined his closely they might notice the slight bump on the bridge of his nose where he had broken it during his childhood playing baseball with his dad. He knew at the moment that he was not meant to be an athlete. He had wished he had been athlete for the sheer fact that he would be in shape. Motivation to work out was hard for him to come by; he felt that he could lose some pounds to look better. In most people’s eyes he was about the right size but he believed otherwise.

The clothes he chose for the evening presented him as a man of class, dark gray Armani pinstripe pants with a light blue Armani dress shirt. He opted out of the tie for the sheer fact he didn’t feel like putting on just for it to choke him and make him sweat more than he already would.

The picture he got of the girl on the way over there was one of those girls who talks non-stop about the most useless subjects and just likes to hear them self talk. They tell you about their best friends in grade school and what they though about wearing that night and then they would laugh at their own jokes with one of those high pitched squealing laughs the made you wish that God had blessed you to be deaf. No matter how uninterested in them you wear they always said that they felt a connection between you and that you should go out again and when you didn’t call them because they were in fact crazy you became the biggest jerk in the world and all of their friends knew to stay clear of you which was probably for the best since anyone who would be friends with girl would have to be crazy as well. He was just looking forward to going back home and probably watching his Hoosiers lose another game and just relax before he had to get up for work.

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