Rin had a taste for energy drinks and cherries. I wasn’t certain it was like her sound, energy and sweetness. She sounded like reality. Discerning and honest, a judge of none but herself. Her voice rarely wavered, lest a joke on her lips.
“Uh, fuck off.”
The indignation in the expletive retort shot out, the mark of the delinquent. Disillusioned, her sharp tongue often won battles in an ongoing war. Craving the sounds of life, she sang a sad song, to me, like the music box letting everything out. Albeit Hope left the box too, she sounded as if hope escaped. I went off to pick up some quick order grub. A cheeseburger club, fries this time, the last I hit Backwood’s Pizza, I devoured a chicken cutlet sub. I’d always found something to feast on like a wandering dog. I ate happily, wagged my tail as I did. Simple things pleased me. Rin seemed like a warning, her quicksilver tongue. She did not mince words. She seemed unfathomable, the ocean at night, but in her youth. I wanted to feast on her every word, observations, insights and all. She kept a swear in her lexicon but she ended an enemy; many. Here I bumped rap music, like it was a good day. Ice Cube said it for his own reasons; I had lunch to eat, words to devour.
Their gaze meets yours. Steel yourself, as they lock eyes with no fear betraying. The look feels a provocation, a strong contest begins. You rarely flinch in the field, but if so you don’t falter. Yet this individual sears you, sight alone. What is this intensity? Anyone else flees under such pressure! A hand slowly lifts up, the thumb and index finger on her right extends. “It’s for you.” Rin offers you the ‘L’, like a waiter serving coffee.
Talent requires no props for their acts, albeit one item’s handy for Rin, The Romantic. Rockstar, the energy drink foretells in one hand, she narrows her glance. The eyebrows hide, as purple bangs cast a canopy, like curtains just above the sill, her eyes drilling into any others wandering. Her head hangs, neck craned in rebellion, with a look as if to say “What do you think you’re doing?” Hair in a cracked bowl about the head, she lowers her chin to scrutinize you further; her hair leaves an absolute part for the face, it glares at you.
A brew of coffee and energy drinks, her voice tells you to ‘get good’ with the same lethargy you might ask for five more minutes in bed. Sounds like a spellcaster, her words vex and bewitch a myriad of monsters online. Sneering goblins, gullible to praise, beg for her attention. Haughty heroes rest assured they earn her praise for the exploits in battle about which they boast, but her nonchalant whispers rouse them all the same. Her aloof air intoxicates - a fact even I fear in her. She could charm you right into your grave. Send you off, would her wit and grace, a smile on your dumb face. For all her power, I understand her room for growth. Negligence may lead to your demise. Hell, a roll of the dice might compromise. Rin rises like any human being, yet falls as inimitable as a snowflake. Beauty in detail, if observed too closely, melted by passion, when seen at a distance, infinitesimal, almost ignored for the snowstorm.
