Soren's Breeze

The warm summer breeze gently brushed against Soren’s skin as he unlocked the cash box from under the drawer. Hoping to find himself somewhere important Soren was disappointed to still be working at the local newsstand. Ambition had a strange misery to it. Like trying to climb a ladder in quicksand.

This had been his fourth new job in two years and quite frankly this last move was neither vertical nor lateral. It was medicinal. The simplicity of his tasks afforded him a mental freedom he had long forgotten. Strange how not drowning in stress opens the mind? Soren joked to himself.

Catering to an unpleasable boss the last six months had taken more than a few years off his life, and unfortunately added a few pounds to his never-thinning gut as he reached down and squeezed an unsatisfactory amount of fat on his side. Being out in the open air was also a nice change of pace. The breeze picked up and wafted a door-busting amount of cigarette smoke across Soren’s face.

Somehow second-hand smoke feels less threatening out here than in a stuffy office. Maybe the three pre-adolescent trees fighting for survival in this concrete jungle are providing me with just enough oxygen to fend off Marlboro’s greatest advert sitting next to the stand. For a guy who never has money, he somehow manages to acquire quite a consistent supply of darts.

I wonder how much business we lose with this dude sitting here.

I wonder how many brain cells I’m losing by sharing his air cubicle.

I wonder how much time I’m wasting thinking about this guy.

“Hello, I’ll take a copy of the Tribune please?” A soft feminine voice suddenly punctured Soren’s train of thought.

“Sorry. Yes. One copy, right away. You know you don’t have to be so polite; this is Metro.”

“I’m from Linic, out in the country you might say. I guess I’m still learning city manners.”

“Linic? Never heard of it.”

“It’s a nobody town, just a few hours East of here.”

“Over the Aradelles?”

“Yes, believe it or not, people can actually drive over the mountains,” the beautiful lady smirked.

“Well, yes, I mean, of course. It’s just I’ve never really been out of the city so I find it interesting when I meet someone who you know… has been over a mountain.”

Her eyes dilated as she giggled and shot an endearing look at him, “Maybe you should wander over the mountains one of these days?”

Flustered by her charm, Soren realized he was still gripping the newspaper as she kindly tried to secure it for herself. “I’m so sorry, It’s just…”

“Still learning the manners,” she shot him a cheerful look with her bright blue eyes, then she paused, turned, and walked away.

Damn. Soren thought to himself. Just hand the lady the freaking paper, you moron.

He had quite the reputation of clumsiness around women, at least that’s what he told himself.

Four years. That was the last time Soren Welch had been on a date.

Four years ago. The glory days you could say if you’re the type of person who's continuously discontented with the present. If only he knew that date would be the beginning of a drought that not even the Egyptians in the times of Joseph had seen. Maybe he would’ve held his shoulders a little higher, pressed that blue plaid collared shirt he thought was in at the time, or maybe talked less about his card collection and more about an unwavering ambition all the ladies seemed to yearn for.

A strong gust of wind blew some of the magazines off the turnstile on the side of his stand. Soren scrambled out to play an annoying but higher-stakes version of pickup sticks whilst trying not to trip on Marlboro Jim who was now lying with his face pressed onto the concrete. Is he? No. Soren poked the poor guy, who jolted up causing him to pee his pants a little. Mother… ugh.

The magazines were now spread several feet from the stand as Soren awkwardly squat-walked like he was hunting some rare bird in the Serengeti. He finally secured the last copy of Shining Hills, the controversial and overtly soapy celebrity gossip magazine.

Stress-free, this is all stress-free. Simple tasks, picking up magazines, no bosses yelling, just you, cringy editorials, and Marlboro Joe, nothing to worry about.

As he stood up a card slapped him directly in the face from the bustling wind.

He carefully maneuvered the stack of magazines to one hand and used the other to scrape the card from his now sweaty face. The card read:

Jane Meadow

Freelance Artist. 900 Harvest Lane, Linic.

“Drawing out All the Beauty from the Mighty Aradelles.”

Soren’s heart jumped a bit. No way. Okay, calm down big guy. It’s a business card, not an invitation to stalk her. You talked to her for like ten seconds. But she did smile at you quite directly, maybe she thinks you're hot. Alright, we can’t be that guy who overinflates everyday interactions. Gosh, you’re freaking desperate. You’re going to try to find this woman, aren’t you? Sheesh, please don’t end up with a restraining order. She is an artist though, and you love art, that’s pretty cool.  

“Hey eye-Sore, you ever going to come back from Neverland?” a familiar voice snarked at him.

“Larry!” Soren stepped around the stand and gave his friend a big hug.

“You know Soren, you might have better luck with the ladies if you didn’t look like a lost puppy all the time.” Larry slapped him on the back.

“Yeah, yeah, the ladies…I think I might have found a stroke of luck.”

“Oh, yeah? You finally went on a date?” Larry’s eyes opened wide.

“Well… not exactly.” Soren slumped his shoulders.

“You got a girl’s number? Come on, spit it out!”

“I got this.” Soren handed Larry the business card.

“Okay. Um, a business card. With no number, I mean it’s got an address at least, and hey I guess it’s a positive she gave you her card. That must count for something?”

“Yeah, about that… she didn’t hand this to me, I found it.” His cheeks went red as he looked down to the ground.

“You found a random lady's business card? What the heck is wrong with you, there’s like three million women in this city.” Larry paced back and forth with his hands on his head.

“She’s not random. I did talk to her here at the stand, not too long ago.” Soren perked up at the thought of the lady's blue eyes.

“Oh, dear Sore. Come here man.” Larry reached out to hug him and Soren moved closer.

Whack! Larry smacked Soren right in the face.

“Wake up dude! You’re better than that. You can’t go running down a lady because some divine wind blew her business card into your face, that’s nonsense.”

“I don’t know Larry; it’s been four years since I’ve been on a date and I’m tired of not taking any risks.” Soren felt a surge of confidence he hadn’t experienced in quite some time and stood up tall and straight.

“Yeah, that’s all cool William Wallace, you plan on taking down the English after you find this poor gal. This just isn’t the move. Somebody will come around, just be a little more patient. How are you going to find this lady anyway?”

“Well, I think if I went to this address I’d have a good shot.” Soren looked directly at Larry who couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You can’t be serious? Linic? Where even is that? You can’t just go showing up at a woman’s house who you don’t know!”

“Why not Larry? I must at least try! You didn’t see the way she looked at me.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic. I hope I don’t read about you in the news.” Larry shot a look of grave disapproval and walked away.

Am I crazy? What do I have to lose, it’s been four years, maybe I can tell her I decided to finally take a trip over the mountains and see some good art. How does one get to Linic anyway?

Soren quickly locked up the newsstand and started pacing towards the bus station. Three hours early can’t be too bad right? I like to think I’m doing society a service by preventing hopeless middle-aged women from getting their hands on that god-forsaken tabloid.

His heart was now racing quickly. I can’t believe I’m doing this, should I be doing this? This is crazy, right? Gosh, I hope she doesn’t think I’m a freak. Sheesh, stop being so hard on yourself, you got this.

He scanned the board showing all the bus routes. Come on, Linic, Linic, Linic. Where are you? Brownsville… Darton… Greensburg…. Jackson…. Linic! Perfect, the next bus leaves in 10 minutes.

Soren rushed to the ticket booth fumbling through his pockets, he pulled out his wallet with his now rather sweaty hands. “I’ll take one ticket to Linic please.” It sounded like puberty was trying to force its awful hand back onto his vocal cords as he squeaked out that phrase. The worker handed him a little blue card, and Soren moved swiftly to the bench near the bus soon to depart to Linic.

Okay, what do I say? “Hey, I found this business card and took it as a sign of Fate.” No, no, no too forward. She might think you have a ring in your pocket and not only go over the mountains but might end up going through the woods and to grandma’s house to never return. Ummm, come on, think of something, you used to be clever….

“Hey!” A wonderful voice pierced Soren’s train of thought.

“Jane, uh, hi! Nice to run into you again.” He stumbled out a few words.

“Umm. How did you know my name?” Jane blushed and looked at him awkwardly.

“Oh, oh my gosh, I’m such a creep, please don’t run away. I found this.” Soren started to sweat a bit.

“Ha, no way, this is wild, I knew it!” Jane smiled and Soren instantly perked up.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand?”

“Okay, you’re going to think I’m crazy… I walked away from that stand wishing you’d asked for my number, so I debated for a while to turn around and come back. But I chickened out and decided to just throw my card up into the wind as some pathetic fairy tale romantic hoping it would find its way back to you.”  Jane blushed, clearly embarrassed by her decision.

Soren’s heart skipped as she now was looking intently into his eyes. “I guess today was the right day to wander over the mountains.”

The bus doors opened, Soren reached out his hand, Jane grabbed it and they got on the bus to Linic, joking and laughing as it rode away.