I sit in front of the window, looking for smoke. I'm intrigued by him, but a little scared (not quite scared, befuddled).
I brave the outdoors after a moment, walking out onto the balcony with a skittish look to the left.
Balcony 2: empty.
I sit against the ironwork and close my eyes. Wind caresses my face, coolly, and I sigh.
The second day of school was a little bit better. A boy named Gabriel introduced himself, and a girl named Teresa complimented my Vans. One of the problems about not seeking friends (and sometimes hating them) is the loneliness that ensues.
"Well, hello there." I peek at the neighbouring balcony to see him - Cam - stepping outside, sans nicotine.
"Hi, Cam." I say and he smiles. He leans on the sharp edge of the balcony rails and looks down at me like I'm a cross between a valentine card and charming zoo hybrid-zebra.
"You never told me your name." He's got a teasing lilt today. None of the half-lidded insouciance.
"Kat."
"Cat? Do you like cats or something?"
"No, Kat as in Katherine. With a 'K'."
"Katherine. Nice to meet you, Katherine." He grins. "How was your day, Katherine with a 'K'?"
"Good. I..." I haven't the slightest idea why I'm befriending the strange university-attending cigarette-smoking neighbour, except perhaps for the fact that he probably wouldn't care whether I give him a friendship bracelet or ignore him until we move again. "Someone complimented my shoes."
He looks down at them; heather gray and maroon tennis shoes.
"My compliments, though they'd be nicer if they were yellow."
"Ew, no."
He smirks. "Whatever you say, Katherine with a 'K'."
YOU ARE READING
Balconial Conversations
Short Storybal-co-nee-al ; of or referring to a balcony \\ in which a cynical girl and a disastrously (self-characterized) aromantic psychology student have daily discussions between neighbouring balconies \\ #1 in short story june & july 2k15 \\ book 1