Close Strangers

Conversation was going pretty well as they made their way down the busy street. Strangers still, they remained a few feet apart, maintaining the acceptable distance to be kept between new acquaintances. He was tall and unmistakably masculine, sporting the most impressive beard and hair combination she had ever seen. She couldn't help but appreciate his authority, everything about him was "manly".  He exuded an air of nonchalance. Every piece of his clothing was worn in, but not worn out, and the pallet that he dressed himself in was neutral and inviting. His hair was, for lack of a more fitting word, whimsical. It tossed lazily in the wind created by the passing cars. Every once in a while, he would brush it aside with his wide hands when it came too close to his eyes. They were small and crystal blue; the perfect contrast to his red hair.  Contrary to his rough appearance, she noticed that the way he carried himself was something reminiscent of childhood, like he was still taking his time to look at the trees and feel the sun on his cheeks. She too was an appreciator of the mundane. More often than not, she could be caught looking over her shoulder to get a better look at the graffiti on the lamp post, or the weeds stretching their arms poetically through fence links. Slight and delicate, she strolled beside him, smiling as he told her about his classes.
Their conversation occurred in bursts, like bubbles breaking free from hot water. She asked him what he planned to do for the weekend, and he replied with a noncommittal "I don't know yet". Then a pause. He asked her if she had any plans. "I guess I don't know yet either." They paused again, this time as if to scorn the restrictions of small talk, yet not wishing to make the other uncomfortable with more intimate conversation. Their pause was lengthened as the subway rattled and screeched beneath their feet. Steam rushed up through the vents upon which they walked, curling their sultry fingers around the couple's ankles. Their chatter started up again after the noise subsided, and they continued amicably down the street until the intersection. They parted abruptly as the girl turned down her own street, trying not to cut the conversation too short, but trying not to delay awkwardly in the street to finish her sentence. Friendly goodbyes were exchanged and they were on their way.
 As she made her way up the crumbling sidewalk to her apartment, she almost danced. The sun was hidden behind a layer of clouds and the cold wind whipped at her cheeks. She stepped carefully around a pile of trash and crossed the street to avoid a quarreling couple in front of a beaten down row house. As she made her way over the jagged chunks of concrete that only slightly resembled a sidewalk, she couldn't help but think: "What a beautiful day it is."