An Hour

He leaned back in his swivel chair and clicked his pen, waiting anxiously as the second hand of the clock seemed to move backwards. Finally, the hallelujah chorus rang out in his mind as the clock struck twelve. For some inane reason, this morning had passed very slowly. He assumed it was due to his lack of projects to work on. Time had always been a mystery to him. 1

Sometimes an hour could go by so slowly.2

The security guard at the door nodded, muttering a “How‘s it goin’, Peter?” as Peter Sharpe burst through the revolving door like an aquarium fish being released to the great sea.3

In a way, work was his aquarium. Trapped alone in his little cubicle, fed every now and again, and entirely oblivious to the world around him until the hands landed on the twelve. Then, he was free; surrounded by city life and eating when he wanted and being a part of the life around him. However, it was only lunch break. He had to return to the aquarium in an hour or so.4

Peter entered the Lonely Café, a small coffee shop a few blocks from the insurance agency at which he was employed.  A surprising amount of people occupied the shop that afternoon, and he struggled in finding a seat. Finally, he sat down across from a young woman, who no one could deny was quite attractive. Her long hair was barely pulled back, with pieces curled around her porcelain face. She looked to be about 5’5”, and was wearing a grey tee-shirt, jeans, and simple flats. Somehow, despite the simplicity of her outfit, she radiated a sense of true class.5

After a few minutes of visual appreciation, Peter decided to introduce himself: “Hey, I hope you don’t mind me introducing myself. I’m Peter Sharpe.”6

The beautiful woman sat there in silence, reading her magazine.7

“Ahem. Miss?” Peter said awkwardly, hoping for a reply.8

Nothing.9

He got up, and then sat back down. He was determined. “Hello?” he said, raising his voice. He waved a hand between her and her magazine, and she jumped back as if in shock.10

“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you!” Peter yelled defensively, but very apologetically, for he was a gentleman.11

She relaxed, caught her breath, and smiled. Then, pulling out a pad of paper she scratched something down, and slid the pad over to Peter.12

Peter looked down at the small handwriting which read: “Hello. My name is Leslie.” He raised an eyebrow and slowly repeated himself: “Uh, hi there…my name…is…Peter…Sharpe.”13

Leslie laughed and snatched the pad away. She scribbled something again and handed it back, shaking her head and pointing violently at the pad.14

It read: “Yes, I know. I can read lips, but I can not hear you!”15

Peter understood. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “You’re deaf!”16

Leslie laughed and slapped her palm against her head, as if to say “obviously!”17

Peter tugged at his collar, feeling somewhat idiotic. He felt afraid; feeling strange around someone like Leslie. For some reason, though, he could not convince himself to leave. Something about her was so intriguing. He asked her, moving his mouth slowly in case she did not understand, “Would you like to go for a walk?” She looked outside, and Peter mirrored her actions to see that it was pouring out. Again, he felt very stupid.18

To his surprise, she looked at him right in the eye and nodded her head. Without a moment’s hesitation, she leaped out of her seat and walked out the door. Peter shrugged and followed.19

The minute they were outside, Peter attempted to hail a cab. Leslie pulled his hand down from the air and dragged him down the street. “Where are we going?” Peter yelled over the rain. There was no reply.20

Leslie brought him to a narrow alley, which seemed pitch black from the street. Peter shook his head, but she pulled him in anyway.21

They reached an area where, to Peter’s surprise, an impressive ray of sunshine was reflecting off of some spilled gasoline, creating a beautiful rainbow effect. Leslie drew his attention from the gasoline puddle on the ground, and Peter realized that someone had spread it across the walls of the alley as well.22

Peter honestly felt very uncomfortable. He felt like he was starring in some cheesy romance movie, lost down rainbow alley with a beautiful stranger. At the same time, he was feeling something he hadn’t felt since he had a crush on his seventh grade teacher. Leslie was beautiful, of course. But something about her made her seem off-limits. Out of his reach.23

They sat down on top of a small dumpster, surrounded by gasoline rainbows, and passed the notepad back and forth for almost an hour, inquiring about one another’s lifestyles, hobbies, work, and families.24

Peter pulled back his drenched sleeve to reveal an unfortunate fact: it was nearly one-thirty. He showed his watch to Leslie and she nodded, knowing he would suggest bringing her home.25

She allowed him to hail a cab this time, and sat in the back seat as a child would, her knees pulled up to her chest, her pale blue eyes reflecting the lightning all around them.26

Peter walked her up to the door of her brownstone; her parents brownstone, rather. They had passed away when she was nineteen and left everything to their only daughter. He nodded and smiled to her, then turned to enter the cab and go back to the aquarium for five more hours.27

Peter felt a hand on his shoulder, and barely had time for his brain to catch up with his movements as Leslie turned him around and kissed him lightly on the lips. 28

Maybe she wasn’t out of his reach.29

Peter could feel the blood rushing to his face, and couldn’t help but smile. He said to her, “Would you like to come meet me for dinner after I get out of work?” She smiled, the smile of a pretty little girl, and pointed to her wrist.30

“Oh, I get out at six-thirty,” Peter said, and with that, it was back to work.31

The hours passed slowly. Peter was bored to tears. He jolted at the sudden knock on the window next to him. Leslie was outside, smiling and waving. He smiled and felt the blood rush to his face again.32

The clock struck six-thirty and he freed himself once again. Leslie grabbed his hand, interlacing her fingers with his, and stood at the crosswalk.33

The sign across the street changed from "Don't Walk" to "Walk". A restless cab driver ignored the stop light. Leslie, however, released herself from Peter’s grasp and ran out onto the crosswalk. Peter looked frantically from side to side to see a speeding taxi coming down the busy street. Everything began to move in slow-motion. Like the others waiting at the crosswalk, Peter yelled out to Leslie, knowing well she could not hear him.34

The taxicab’s horn was useless.35

Leslie lay lifeless in Peter’s arms as he could do nothing but look around, unable to escape from this terrible dream. This stranger, this muse -- taken from him in the blink of an eye.36

He had only known the love of his life for an hour. Time was always a mystery for him.37

Sometimes an hour could go by so fast.38