letter to the watched

On November 15, 2015
a letter by [eunique]

Dear person who I don’t know really know,

As I sit here in this room with only a few other people, my eyes land on you. Your dyed blonde hair and skinny jeans that were a little too tight for a man, but you wore them perfectly. You had on a ridiculous shirt with stripes on it. It fit you well well though. You had your guitar laying on your chest and notebook on the counter, completely gone and lost in thought. Your eyebrows creased and thumb pressed hard against your pencil turning it slightly red as you wrote. You’d bite your lip every now and then smiling, probably because you had created something from that big and tortured mind. Your fingers skimmed across the guitar creating something soft and delicate, something new. Your finger skimmed across the strings, small and loud screeches bubbling from the instrument, and then you’d write.

I tried to guess what you were writing about. Something that happened between you and your roommate? A bird in the tree? Or maybe your girlfriend? All the questions came into my mind, but nothing seemed to fit you. It didn’t fit the aroma you gave off, and that was interesting.

You were interesting.

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