Coreopsis 6-a

    Orion walked onto the train platform. His pristine white suit glistened in the sun. He sat down on the bench tipping his hat to a lady who was already sitting there.

   “You could put someone’s eyes out with that.” She voiced her very dry unwanted comment.

   His heart stopped. He was afraid to move, afraid he would fall off the bench. After what seemed like forever, his heart started beating again. The sound of her voice was like something from a dream; something that he had forgotten. He glanced over at her; she seemed to be enjoying a book. It was a private bound book, not a professional one. 

   The sweet smell wafting through the air from this stranger was an interesting distraction for Orion. It too seemed to stir something in the recesses of his memory.

   “What will put someone’s eyes out?” There was a hint of confused distaste in his voice. 

   “The sun glistening off the white slick fabric of your suit; it’s as powerful as a mirror.”

   “Do you always comment on strangers clothing?”

   “Only when the opportunity presents itself,” she turned a page in her book. The next train rolled into the station. People flooded the platform. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that he paid them no mind. Interesting fellow, she thought. “Catchin’ a train?”

   It took him a long time to answer her. So long in fact that she didn’t think he was going to respond. Maybe he didn’t hear her.

   “No.” The tone of his voice changed, it had a calm smoothness to it; sending ripples through her. A sensation she noticed. 

   “The other option would be waitin’ on someone?” Her voice was so alive. It seemed to vibrate through his ears. It made his heart race.

   “Do you always engage people that sit down next to you in unwanted conversations?”

   “When there are empty seats all around and someone makes the choice of sitting next to me, then yes. If your object is to avoid people, then you should sit as far away from them as possible.”

   “Yes, to answer your question, I am waiting on someone.” 

   She turned her attention back to her book. Orion looked at her. She was wearing brown woven sandals, a brown broomstick skirt, a white short sleeve peasant blouse, and a wide brimmed brown straw hat. The hat was so large that he couldn’t see her head.

     “Don’t you think brown is a poor choice for summer?”

     “Tit for tat.” Her voice dance. “Perhaps.” 

     “What about you?” he asked. “Are you waiting on someone?”

   She didn’t look up from her book. “Yes.”

   There were several more minutes of silence between them. “I am waiting on a Fan-o-re-iean.” He spoke. 

   “You say that as if it’s a curse word.” She closed her book gently on her left index finger.

   “No, not at all. I have to be careful when I say it. I always pronounce it incorrectly.”

   “Does the Fanoreiean have a name?” 

   The word that he had such a hard time pronouncing flowed freely from her lips. 

     “Dr. Zabane.” She sat up on the bench extending her hand toward him in a handshake. “Sarah.” She had lifted her head and he could see her face. It was an amazing face. He looked at her for a moment. Her eyes, they sparkled and danced. His throat was suddenly dry. He looked around for some water but found none. No one’s eyes had ever look this alive to him before. It caught him off guard. 

   After what he knew was a lifetime, he took her hand and kissed the top of it, “Orion.”