by St. Ory
Sylvia Flint is a renowned artist and designer looking to get away from it all.
| The chill Autumn wind hit me with full force as I stepped out into the cool afternoon. my scarf twisted and contorted itself all around me like a bunch of deep plum feathers. I buried the lower half of my face deeper into my scarf and walked at a fairly sedate pace down the streets. Not too many people were out and about but there were just enough for the crosswalks to have small groups waiting at them. I looked up at the pale grey clouds as I neared the park. They didn't seem dark enough for rain just yet and I hoped that it would stay that way for the rest of my walk. I weaved though small clumps of people here and there and started walking down one of the longer paths. I didn't see any people on my way down the path and stopped next to a smooth pond that barely rippled in the strong wind. I sat on a large rock near the edge, pulling out my prized sketchbook and flipping it open to a blank page. I always enjoyed drawing the small pond and the trees around it. The three willows were my favorite, and on warm days I would climb into their branches and draw the people who came to the pond. I was rarely spotted and if I was, the person would always ignore me and retreat back into their thoughts. I lost track of time and finally looked up when a drop of water it the page. The drawing was almost finished and I quickly sketched in the last bits before stashing the drawing away in my brown leather satchel and standing. I brushed my black skinny jeans off before stretching a bit and walking back towards my apartment. More people crowded the sidewalks and crosswalks and everybody seemed like they had to be somewhere right at that moment. I glared at a man who pushed right past me, too preoccupied on his cell phone to notice me walking right in front of him. I shook my head, calming the sudden anger that rose up in defiance. I shook my head as another rain drop hit my face. Soon after that one, a sudden down pour threatened to wash me away. I finally made it back to my apartment and sighed in relief as I saw the waiting elevator. I gladly got into it and saw someone come in the doors and run towards me. I quickly stopped the doors from closing and nodded to the man. I pressed the top button, the penthouse button and waited for the man to press his, but he just stood there next to me, also soaked through. The elevator dinged and the man and I got off. I began to walk to the right, but the man cleared his throat.
"You must be my neighbor," he said, sticking out his hand. "My name is Cyrus Dupree." I took his hand and shook it gently.
"My name is Sylvia Flint," I said, noticing a slight lilt to my words that was never there before. I let go of his hand. "Do you already have all of your things here? I asked, genuinely curious. I didn't think I was out that long.
"Not yet," he said sighing and running a hand through his wet, brown hair. "I have to move it all myself since I don't have many friends here yet." I nodded, knowing how he felt.
"I could help you move in tomorrow," I offered. "It isn't supposed to rain and I'm not working on anything in the meantime." I cocked my head slightly to the left.
"Really? That would be great!" he exclaimed. I smiled a bit at his excitability. "What time do you want to start?" he asked. I shrugged.
"Anytime after nine," I said. He nodded. "See you tomorrow then," I called as I walked down the hallway. I swiftly unlocked my door and tossed my keys in the bowl as I walked in. I tossed my coat and scarf over one of my dining room chairs and unzipped my boots as I sat on the couch. I kicked them off and peeled off my fingerless gloves, carelessly tossing them on my dark leather ottoman. I kicked my feet up and turned on the television and scrolled through the countless channels before settling on the history 2 channel. It was about the crusades and the black plague and I soon fell asleep as the sky grew dark. (A/N: Review and I shall write more! R&R please!)