Other Sides of Glass (standard:romance, 2600 words)
Author: victoriawhita	Added: Nov 02 2003	Views/Reads: 3804/2519	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Victoria get some solace when she goes to 'her' beach. Maybe this trip she'll get something more.

From Other Sides of Glass By Victoria Whita 

The tension of the day caused my mind to focus on getting to one place,
and my body to be driven to keep my energy up until I could arrive 
there. The beach, even on a cold afternoon, was the only place I wanted 
to be. After several chilly visits I'd learned to layer my clothes and 
take clothes that kept the chill off. I went to walk on 'my' beach, to 
feel the water and sand on my feet, to sit and watch the waves in hopes 
of seeing 'my' seal, to watch 'my' sunset, hoping to bring a relief to 
my frustrations and see beyond them. All these things became mine as I 
drew energy from them on my visits. 

After my delightfully calm walk on the all-but-deserted beach, I stopped
at my favorite restaurant. Happy that 'my' table was available because 
it allowed me a view of the ocean without my being the center of 
attention and having other diners wonder why I always ate alone. 
Considering the frequency of my visits there was only one dish on the 
menu that I could afford. After the waitress took my order for a bowl 
of clam chowder, which, along with the complimentary bread and water, 
would provide a refreshing meal, I turned to watch the sunset. Outside 
the glass window was a porch, and occasionally people would walk by and 
even look in at me, but this didn't hinder my enjoyment. 

The colors seemed brighter that night...they spread wider. The colors
changed slower than usual. Half of me wished for a camera to capture 
it, the other half knew that worrying about settings on my camera might 
ruin the moment. I could no longer just sit, and stood close to the 
glass looking at, what was now in my mind, 'my' sunset. I reached up my 
left hand, stretched my fingers on the glass. I closed my eyes and as I 
pictured my sunset in my mind and felt the hardness of the glass under 
my fingers, it was almost as if I had reached out and touched the sky. 
It was a powerful moment. I enjoyed the feeling but didn't want to miss 
more of the sunset. I opened my eyes without moving and found the 
sunset partially blocked by a someone standing between me and the sky. 
I was annoyed that someone would take this pleasure from me. 

As my eyes focused on him his features separated him from the silhouette
he first formed on my mind. I realized he was facing me and not the 
sunset which was unusual for someone just standing on the porch. 

He looked to his right also at the glass and I realized his right hand
was reached out to touch my left hand, but we couldn't touch because of 
the glass barrier between us. I thought of pulling away but because his 
attention wasn't on me but my hand, I didn't feel self-conscious and 
waited to see what he'd do next. He matched his fingers up with mine. I 
moved my fingers together and he did the same. I moved them apart; he 
did the same. I slid my hand down and then left and right and he did 
the same. I looked at him. He was taller than I, and seemed to have 
blonde hair, although it was hard to tell in the dimming light. I 
turned back to our hands. He  now stopped matching my movements and 
with his finger traced the outlines of my hand on the glass, as if he 
wanted to memorize its place, its position, its look. It was as if he 
were touching me and I could feel my skin tingle. I wanted it to last, 
but was too curious. I wondered what he would do. I started moving my 
hand toward my face. Our hands seemed to be tied as his moved slowly 
behind mine. I moved slowly but purposefully towards my face. He 
continued to watch, and I watched his face grow nervous as my hand drew 
closer to my face. Where his face had seemed inquisitive he now reacted 
as a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar as I stopped my hand 
under my eyes. And finally his eyes joined mine. What was this 
connection I felt and did he feel it? 

Was it just a game for him? His eyes were so serious and deep. I felt
his expression change to that of a boy in a toy store. Now my thoughts 
starting wandering to thoughts of touching him. If he could touch my 
hand through glass in such a powerful way, imagine how he could touch 
me in real life. Could I be having these thoughts about a stranger? I 
brought up my other hand and he 'touched' it also and we stood 
'touching' hands looking into each others eyes. I heard a cup being put 
on my table and didn't dare look away, but also wondered at what I was 
doing. I gave in and let a smile spread across my face. He looked at me 
as if he were a puppet and my smile could turn his face into a 
smile...as if learning how to do it from me. 

A smile came to his face as well. I heard the waitress ask me a


Click here to read the rest of this story (162 more lines)