Wheat fields of dreams [Open]

[Michael Austen]

January 31st, 2010

[paikea]

[/i] The man who spilt the coffee on her back said.

Sophie turned around and smiled at him. "No worries 'mate. I'm wearing my painting clothes anyway." She grabbed a stack of napkins. "You don't look so well, bloke. You okay?"[/ul]

[Michael Austen]

[/b] [/i] he wondered to himself. He was thinking just like Lucifer.

Michael took a deep breath to calm himself down as he had to come back to reality. He should be helping this girl by cleaning up and not worrying about flaws of the human race. He then helped cleaned the mess up. As he placed the napkins in the trashcan, he noticed that she was some sort of musician. Michael liked music, perhaps he could make small time. It was after all his mistake that he had bumped into her.

“So what you are some kind of musician?” he asked as he pointed her instrument case. Perhaps she wanted to talk about music. He just felt gulity for spilling hot coffee on her back and making small talk would perhaps make him a bit better.


[/ul]

[paikea]

[/i]

And then they would continue running their mouths until the person they spilled the coffee on would forgive them and then the two would be on their merry way and tell their spouse and kids about the whole ordeal and then forget about it the next day.

Thats what would happen if there were two absolutely normal people. But nowadays, hardly anyone was normal. Sophie knew for a fact that she wasn't. There were several un-normal things about her, but this guy, he looked normal, but he was giving Sophie vibes that he was something out of the ordinary. Sophie was bound to find out what exactly it was bugging her about this guy.

Sophie finished cleaning up the rest of the coffee spill and threw the napkins in the trash. She pulled out a small bottle of hand sanitizer and doused her hands with the stuff. When suddenly, the man asked if she was a musician of some sort.

Well duh I am. Sophie thought to herself, being careful that she didn't speak what she was thinking.

"Yeah, I'm an indie artist." She said, scratching the back of her head. "I record from my place in New Orleans, but I'm out here on a painting commission." For some reason Sophie suddenly felt uneasy, but she didn't let it show.

"Would you like me to buy you another cup?" Sophie said, gesturing to the now almost empty cup the man had. "My name is Sophie." [/ul]

[Michael Austen]

[/i][/b] he thought to himself. He had to get his act together. He had to act normal as possible. Why was he so worried about this!? He wanted to mentally slap himself. However, he wasn’t going to be able to do that. He took a deep breath as he spoke to her. Something normal had to happen or so he thought. It wasn’t like this girl thought that he was an angel or demon.

She finally spoke to his question, “Awesome” he said with a slight nod as she said that she was an indie artist. She then told him that she recorded in New Orleans. “Aww…New Orleans haven’t been there since the Civil War” he thought to himself. She was out her for a painting commission. “Got to make money somehow, I suppose eh?” he asked. It was a bit of a stupid comment, but it was the truth.

Next thing Michael knew was that she was offering to buy him a new cup of coffee. He looked down at his hand and noticed that most of all of his coffee had been drentched on the women. “Uh that would be good,” he said with a smile. It was a nice gesture. She then told him her name. “Michael,” he managed to say.

[/ul]