Stranger is stranger

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this story written on a napkin in a sushi restaurantI don’t think it was about sex. There wasn’t any sex.

It started when I noticed her in my local pub. She’d turn-up next to me at the bar when I went to buy a round. We’d exchange greetings and niceties. Or, I’d pass her when returning from the toilets and we’d exchange friendly smiles. I don’t know why she picked me.

She became an increasingly familiar stranger. During one conversation at the bar I invited her to join us.  She perched next to me, not mixing with my friends. She focussed on engaging me in conversation. The more I talked with her the further away I seemed to drift from my friends. I could see them floating away in mind and space. Leaving me,  with her, wrapped in an unpleasant isolation.

I stopped going to that pub. I enjoy feeling free. Even if I can’t go places to maintain the illusion of freedom. Then I started seeing her in the shopping centre, when roller-blading along the seafront, and worst of all – when I was walking home from work.  I started varying the time I left work and the route I took home. She started waiting outside the one door to the building. I knew I was being stalked. Did she know she was a stalker?

she felt like she was a car accident about to happenA game started when she walked up to me as I left work –  I’d ask her where she was going then turn to go the other way, when she changed her mind, I’d change my mind. The ridiculousness of the situation helped me just say

“I don’t want to walk with you or spend any time with you, I’d rather be alone, please leave me alone

what are you scared of?”

I don’t want to walk with you, talk with you or be with you, accept it, goodbye

She walked next to me, talking  as if I were a betraying lover that owed her an explanation. I looked straight ahead and walked on, pretending she wasn’t there, living what I wanted as if behaving like she wasn’t there would make her go away. I was extremely scared and equally determined to walk to Darren’s nearby home. She stopped at Darren’s beech hedge. I walked his garden path in the new silence feeling as-if her eyes were pawing my back.  Darren welcomed me with a outsized smile and hug, fed me pots of tea, listened to my burbling mess of a story before more delicious hugs and walking me home.

Alas, these things never end quite that easily

Stranger is stranger
4 votes rating 5

7 bits of lovely banter on “Stranger is stranger”

  1. Indigo Roth writes:

    Hey Wendy! First time here, and I like what I’m reading. If I take the time to read, I’ll comment most of the time. This was realistic, nicely-turned narrative. Hats off to you! Indigo

       1 likes

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  2. Daphne Wayne-Bough writes:

    Hey that was good! Left me wanting more. Carry on blogging!

       1 likes

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  3. Paula Wooters writes:

    Intriguing story! Who is this mystery woman? (I’m glad Indigo reposted this so I could find you!)

       1 likes

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  4. wendy writes:

    Daphne and Paula, thanks form dropping by and liking vignette, and In digo thanks ofr the feedback and for giving me a reference so Paula dropped by, you’re quite a whirlwind of supporting happeningness. Now I’m more reassured that these type of vignettes aren’t just dropping out into silence because they’re really rather crap. Ta!

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  5. Pearl writes:

    I would read more of this. Who is this woman? Why has she focused on you? What does she do for a living?!

    Pearl

       1 likes

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    wendy writes

    Thank you Pearl, I really wanted the story to get people thinking about what happened before, what’s not said, and what happens next so your comment is wonderful! w x

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  6. Scarlet writes:

    I’m catching up… I would also like to read more of this.
    Sx

       1 likes

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