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Post by elaine ruth alexander on May 13, 2012 22:02:24 GMT -5
Ellie had just gotten off from work at the diner. She was still wearing the frumpy polo that they called "the uniform" along with a beige pair of slacks and the name tag that read ELLIE in all capital letters. They had given her one with her full name etched into it, but she refused to wear it. It wasn't that she hated her full name. She just liked her nickname better. What person didn't? That's what nicknames were for anyway, right? Usually, Ellie went home after work, but today was one of those days. She had taken a detour on her way home and walked to the park instead. Sometimes she would swing on the swings or spin on the merry-go-round for a little while. But today she had opted to lay on her back in the grass and stare at the sky. It was so perfect and clear and blue and the only clouds in sight were the fluffy ones that looked like enormous cotton balls. She sighed in content and rested her hands on her stomach. Her shirt was no longer tucked into her pants and she had removed the hair tie from her hair as soon as she left the diner. She looked relaxed, maybe even a little comfortable. But that did not keep people from staring at her. She closed her eyes. Everything was peaceful and quiet. Everything was perfect. Well, almost perfect.
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Post by LINUS THEODORE HENDRICK on May 13, 2012 22:25:47 GMT -5
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hard rubber caresses blue jeans and metal snaps at pale, soft hands. linus hates swings. he hates the children that scream and run for them upon sight, tripping on a rock they couldn't be bothered to see and falling into the grass, screaming, "mommy! mommy!" linus hates the boogers that stream out of their noses and linus hates the way the metal ropes he's grasping onto are probably covered in those boogers. he cringes and stations his feet in the woodchips underneath the seat before letting go of the chains and putting his hands into his pockets. linus hates how he was once a kid with boogers that played on swings. linus hates swings.
he gets up and goes over to a bench. takes his backpack off, sets it onto the seat and sits down next to it. the only reason linus likes parks is for the nature and the people. people were strange. people like to run from one another and shout out, "tag!" when they're touched. people like to kiss on blankets and to say "i love you" a million billion times into each other's ears. people like to bring sandwiches and eat them all alone, just like him. and apparently, people like to lay down in the grass all alone and look like snow angels, even when it's summer.
linus knows the woman laying down in the grass. he's seen her many times. he's painted her before. "the sweet lady at the cashier that gives out winks and change.
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[/i]" he smiles. the backpack is suddenly where it usually is and he's on his way to see her. she's all spread out on the grass, still in her uniform from the diner. every morning, he saw her. she's always smiling. like now. " i've painted you before.[/i]" [/div][/center] [/td][/tr][/table] CREDIT TO JENNERS[/center] |
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Post by elaine ruth alexander on May 13, 2012 23:48:12 GMT -5
Ellie opened her eyes when she heard a voice. There was a young man standing over her. He was wearing a backpack. She pushed herself into a sitting position and fixed her glasses on her face. He had done what? Painted a picture of her? She raised a brow inquisitively and allowed a small smile to form on her face. "You painted a picture of me," she stated. It was not quite a statement, but not quite a question either. She fixed her glasses on her face and ran a hand through her hair. He looked familiar, but she could not quite place where she had seem him. She tilted her head to the side and waited for him to respond. When he did not speak right away, she decided to speak instead. "Are you going to show me this painting?" she asked. She had to admit that it was a little strange that someone she barely knew (if she knew him at all) had painted a picture of her and had gone out of his way to tell her this. But she would humor him and see how this conversation turned out.
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Post by LINUS THEODORE HENDRICK on May 14, 2012 0:35:37 GMT -5
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the lady sits up and adjusts her glasses. "you painted a picture of me," she says, bewildered. linus nods. he looks like a little boy with his backpack on, almost. he knows it too. he hates it. she's looking at him, not just looking at him, but looking at him. "are you going to show me this painting?"
"no. i'm linus hendrick. hendrick. i come into your diner every morning. coffee. bacon. eggs, over easy.
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[/i]" he puts out a hand for her to reach out and grab. " you wink at me sometimes. and your name is ellie. why are you laying down in the grass?" linus is notorious for the way he talks. quick and chopped up, like the way you'd eat a stick of celery. he's loud too. headphones. animal collective. not a good combination for conversation. linus reaches into his pocket and pulls out his dinosaur ipod, nicknamed olive oil for the way she feels because he once dropped her in baby oil when he was younger. he pauses the song. " inspiration." he points at olive oil, smiling sweetly. " my child." [/div][/center] [/td][/tr][/table] CREDIT TO JENNERS[/center] |
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Post by elaine ruth alexander on May 14, 2012 0:51:36 GMT -5
Ellie knew the order. She knew it well. He had only been in there a few times, but she had memorized his order much like many of the other orders she had taken over the years. That was one of the reasons why she got such great tips, because she remember orders and didn't have to go through the notion of asking what they wanted to eat and drink. But that was for the regulars who ordered the same thing all the time. Like Linus. The woman nodded her head when he explained all this. She remembered now. A small smile passed across her face. He already knew her name, so there was no need for introduction, but she did take his hand when offered. She shook it gently and nodded her head. Linus was definitely a character to make you stop and think. He talked in a series of rhymes and riddles, or at least that was how it sounded to someone like Ellie who had trouble keeping up anyway. But they were similar in that their mind jumped trains on occasions... his more than hers.
"The grass," she stated, wondering how she should respond. Did she want to put herself into Linus' mindset, or did she want to respond like a "normal" human being? "It's soft. And I like the smell." Both things were true, but it wasn't a response she would usually give. She was trying to say as little as possible. She and Linus had never had a proper conversation, so she wanted to make sure he could actually... keep up in the conversation. She cleared her throat.
He pulled his iPod from his pocket. It was older than the one Ellie had stuffed somewhere inside the oversized Marilyn Monroe bag on the ground beside her. She offered a gentle smile. "What kind of music do you like?" she asked him.
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Post by LINUS THEODORE HENDRICK on May 14, 2012 1:19:24 GMT -5
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"what kind of music do you like?"
ellie is strange. usually, people ask linus how old olive oil is and why she's so shiny or what brand his headphones are. she wants to know what he's listening to. and she's smiling. she's a little older than linus thought she was originally, he can see it now that he's really looking at her face. the little lines around her mouth and the way they're engraved tell him so. she looks soft. like a tired mother. she isn't a tired mother, though. she carries a big bag with marilyn monroe on it. mothers don't talk about marilyn moroe, much less own anything with her face on it. at least the mothers linus knows don't.
"the good kind,
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[/i]" linus says. she probably isn't going to recognize any of the bands he had on olive oil, except for maybe a few from before he was born, so he leaves it at that. he eyes a spot on the grass next to her bag and glances back at her. " can i sit with you?" [/div][/center] [/td][/tr][/table] CREDIT TO JENNERS[/center] |
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Post by elaine ruth alexander on May 14, 2012 1:32:24 GMT -5
His answer was not helpful. Most people would have named a few bands that they liked, perhaps offered to let her listen to a few songs, but that was not the case with this boy. Instead, he said he listened to the "good kind" of music. She chose not to press the situation. They would likely spend all day trying to have a major breakthrough. So Ellie settled on a simple nod of her head as she straightened her back, feeling the bones pop. She was getting too old for all this, or at least that was what she told herself whenever the bones in her body popped. But in reality, she was as fit as a fiddle and likely could have run a mile faster than people half her age.
The older woman saw him eyeing a patch of grass beside her. She turned her attention to it and wondered if he saw an enormous spider or some other creature that she needed to know about. But then he looked at her and asked if he could sit down. She opened her mouth and nodded her head. "Yeah," she told him. "Plenty of grass to go around."
She scooped up the Marilyn Monroe bag and rummaged around inside. She was looking for the pack of cigarettes she had dropped in there that morning before going to work. When she finally found them, she opened the pack, placed one between her cracked lips, and lit it with the yellow lighter. She then dropped the cigarette pack and the lighter into the purse. They would eventually end up at the bottom somehow. She turned her attention back to him, taking a quick drag from her cigarette. "So you're not going to show me the painting?"
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Post by LINUS THEODORE HENDRICK on May 14, 2012 16:44:39 GMT -5
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"yeah, plenty of grass to go around."
linus grins and sits down next to her. the grass is dry, almost, and it pricks his hands when he sets them down in it. ellie is rummaging through her bag and it takes all of the self control he possesses for him not to stare at her. well, not her specifically. but the bag. women kept all kinds of things in their bags. his mother kept his old high school id in there, so whenever anyone asked about her children, she could show him off, like a puppy.
he's looking out into the distance and focuses on a bird. she's gray and fat and loud--or maybe it's a he. the bird sees him looking and looks back for a moment. hesitates to move, looks away, and flies. linus wishes he could fly. it'd be interesting. flying means you could see everyone and everything if you really wanted to. flying means there there's nothing above you, except for maybe airplanes. flying means wings and feathers and a beak to peck at things with. flying means not stopping, ever, unless you want to stop. flying means no responsibilities or old ladies for neighbors that complain if you play your music too loud in the morning. oh, linus wishes he could fly.
she's retrieved a lighter and cigarette from her marilyn monroe bag. he watches her light up and remembers he'd got no cigarettes because he smoked the last one just over an hour ago. he squints. "so you're not going to show me the painting?" linus laughs and tilts his head. "no. smoking is terrible for you, you know. mind sharing a cancer stick?
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[/font][/i][/color]" [/div][/center] [/td][/tr][/table] CREDIT TO JENNERS[/center] |
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Post by elaine ruth alexander on May 14, 2012 17:04:23 GMT -5
Ellie had already dropped the pack of cigarettes into her purse when the young boy asked for one. She looked at him for a moment before rummaging through the bag again to retrieve them. It took her less time to find them because they were resting somewhere near the top. She offered the pack and the lighter to him, casually forgetting that he had told her smoking was bad before asking for a cigarette. He certainly was a weird young man.
She looked out across the park. There was a woman walking a small group of dogs, likely a dog-walker... or maybe she just owned that many pets. The woman took another drag from her cigarette and exhaled the smoke, turning her head away from the boy sitting beside her. She looked down at her hand when she felt a tickle. There was a small flying bug resting there. She shook her hand to get it off and then took another small drag from the cigarette. She really needed to quit smoking, but it was a hard habit to kick when one had been doing it for nearly fifty years.
"Why won't you show me the painting?" Ellie pressed. She knew that some artists were particular about their viewing audiences, and maybe he didn't want her to see it. She was fine with that, just curious. After all, it wasn't ever day someone painted a picture of her.
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