Who could she be? Hal pictured her clearly as he played with the earring’s dangling silver shards; he saw her walking into his cafe with a look of conscious poise that only barely betrayed her distress. He was hypnotized by the swirl of her solitary earring. He cursed as the double soy latte he was preparing overflowed. He wanted nothing more in the world at this moment than to find this mystery woman—the one who had left her earring. Hal knew the man at the counter didn’t understand; to this man, the earring that dangled from Hal’s left ear was a feeble swipe at society. Hal brought the man his coffee and rang him up, but couldn’t help betraying a smirk as he noticed the man’s eyes nervously darting-over. Hal relished the man’s discomfort before finally handing him his change and flashing a nice corporate smile. With the morning rush over, Hal relaxed against the back counter, allowing his mind to wander…
She had looked everywhere. The office, the car, the lobby. She asked her secretary, she asked her officemates. She called home and asked her dog on the answering machine. It was nowhere to be found. She felt the odd looks as she briskly moved along the sidewalk against the lunch-hour rush, but she could not be fazed. The looks continued as she surged into the cafe, filled with frustration and the desperate hope that this place was The place; it didn’t help that she wore only one earring, its silver petals sprinkling the morning rays across her neck. Suddenly she would notice him—the staring man behind the counter. He had dark eyes and a dark complexion; he had the eyes of more than a barista. Then she saw it. Her earring dangling from his left ear. Her heart jumped, and for the first time since high school she had no idea what to do next. She was completely vulnerable, exposed, completely at the mercy of the cafe, its customers, the barista. Her heart stopped beating. Those eyes, she felt them pierce her armor, peering into the depths of her soul– into the places she had left buried so long she had forgotten they even existed.
Suddenly he knew he was not alone; as the mists of his daydream receded, he brought the world back into focus just as the door swung open, and a hot summer wind swirled the newspapers up off the tables, filling Hal’s mouth with the acrid taste of raw emotion. She was here. He had known the time would come, but Would he be ready? He crouched behind the counter to gather himself, wiping his hands across his green apron. He admired the stitching. How much time would there be? Each line of fabric exactly the same as the next, perfectly even. Should he run? The faded stains of past distractions. Should he hide? Suddenly he was standing again, his heart leaping frantically from his ribcage as if to escape across the street. The room had filled with a brilliant light, but Hal did nothing, he had Decided what to do. He made to attempt to shield his eyes from the inferno. He could feel the earring grow hot in his ear, his nostrils flared with the scent of searing flesh, and yet he was still.
He did not know how long she had been standing there, but he hadn’t seen her approach. She stood before the counter, bag over the right shoulder, hair still tousled from a frantic search through the downtown. He had the vague sinking rolling stomach feeling that he had blown it already; he slowly realized just how absurd he must look wearing her earring. What if she had ear disease? What if he did?! He didn’t think either of these was likely, but still, you don’t just wear someone’s earring! Their matching earrings lined up, hers in her right ear, his in his left. They each stared at the others’; he didn’t know if she had already said anything. The rolling and rumbling grew more violent, and he felt the impulse to melt. The heat in his ear had reached new heights and he was surprised the earring hadn’t just burned through and fallen out. His thoughts danced through his mind as he watched the light play off her neck, the tiny silver petals of her earring not yet settled from their journey.
“So…” She began
He realized suddenly that he could not move. She looked at him quizzically, as if she didn’t know quite what to make of the situation. She wasn’t mad, he knew, but he could not make more than that. She seemed to understand his situation and his silence and lack of movement was less troubling to her than he had anticipated. She thought fiercely for a few moments, running calculations by contorting her face this way and that, at last allowing her features to relax. She reached her hand slowly across the counter, hovering above his own, which had clamped onto the near edge and was snugly attached. She paused again, but only briefly, before continuing towards his frozen grasp, while his eyes stayed frozen on her neck, the dance of lights plucking the strings of his being, in the arbitrary way that such beautiful things tend to; then there was an explosion. The current surged through the first layers of skin and screamed along his various ducts and canals and wires and circuits into his brain, into his chest, into his feet. The force took his breath away, and left his hair standing on end. The earring floated out from his ear at a 90 degree angle, the petals swirling around themselves in space. He could not feel the floor beneath his feet, nor the air on his face. Only the series of shockwaves propagating through his body, hitting the end and rippling back. The crossing waves produced a symphony of harmonics that filled his head, growing to a deafening roar. Each of his senses was quickly overwhelmed, and he was left only with the image of dancing stars on her pale skin. He thought about how little time she must spend outside. Being in an office. He thought the same about himself. He thought about the beach, the rivers, the ocean, and the mountains. No sooner had he forged these thoughts, they were obliterated by this cursing energy.