The Synthetic Aesthetic

Story Time

There were times when the thoughts in her head were hard, heavy, fast, and repeated. 

“Switch off. Switch off. Switch off.” The plea for her brain to slow down, breathe, and relax never worked. Instead it usually made her more worked up an anxious. 

The first time he saw her like this he didn’t understand. He asked questions. “Why?” He told her to relax.

She told him it didn’t work like that.

So he came up with a new way. A jolt to the system as it were, sparked by sensation.

Most satisfactory.  

Story Time

He walked out the door of his classroom, cursing under his breath over the fact that his professor had let them out late, again.  If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late to his next class. Eyes trained on his goal, he never saw the giant wad of paper hurtling towards him. It hit him in the arm, ricocheted, and landed on the floor. 

Whiring around, he searched for the culprit. A shocking mess of hair immediately grabbed his attention. She was sitting cross legged on the bench, her overly stuffed bag beside her, and her nose in a book. She seemed innocent enough, except for the fact that could quite plainly see that fact that she was struggling to hide a smile. 

“Did you throw that at me?” he asked disbelievingly, his voice raising an octave, embarrassingly enough. She raised her eyebrows as if to say, “who me?” and then gave up the game, instead pointing to the piece of paper and gesturing for him to pick it up. He did so, and unwadded it. There, in messy black sharpie ink, read a single word: “smile.” 

He thought about it. 

Story Time

She’d forgotten that he had a large platform in which to discuss what had happened. She’d forgotten that the bubble didn’t just include those she knew, but those he did, and the platform that he had as well. 

She’d forgotten about it until he was on that platform again, and talking. He was saying the words she didn’t know she had been afraid of hearing. He wasn’t being mean. He wasn’t being judgmental. He sounded baffled. But he was saying it, and even though a name was never said, her face turned beet red as she sank lower and lower in her chair. She’d never even considered the possibility until it hurt. 

Story Time

He didn’t know how to feel about it. 

It was unexpected. Out of the blue. One second it wasn’t there. The next it was. He didn’t know what to do with it. It just sat there, all red and stand-out-y. He didn’t know this person. He’d seen them once or twice, sure. But when it came down to it he knew nothing. Sure he could find out, but really why should he? 

He didn’t know what to do. 

How would anyone else respond to the same situation? Go for it? Or ignore it? Or try to get rid of it? Each one had it’s possible benefits and detriments. As he stared at it, he could see all of the possibilities swirling around, each as confusing as the next. 

Just go away….     

He willed it and willed it. It didn’t happen. He felt bad about it. After all this person didn’t intend it. But he really didn’t need to deal with this in his life. He had way too many more important things to do. 

He decided to ignore it. 

Story Time

“Hey! You didn’t think you’d get away with sneaking past me did you?”

“You know, for a moment there, yeah I did.”

“Sucks for you.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“How are you? You look down.” 

“Yeah. You know, the usual.”

“What’s the usual?”

“Oh, you know, inadequacy issues.  Blah blah blah. Oh I’m not good enough, blah blah blah. Oh no one will ever want me. Blah blah blah. Or if someone did they’d be completely undesirable, blah frickety blah.”

“Sounds frustrating. And boring.” 

“It is. Same old story you know? I need a new plot line.”  

Story Time

He was sitting there with book in hand. The same spot every day. 

Finally, she got up the nerve. 

She wandered over slowly, then sank into a chair opposite him with much more grace then she knew she had. She tilted her head in a way she hoped was attractive, and gave him a curious smile. 

“Mind if I interrupt?” she asked. 

He raised an eyebrow and took one of his headphones out of his ear. “Sure, go for it.” He raised himself into less of slouch and more of a proper sitting position. 

“Is it any good? That book? I mean I’ve heard it is from people on the internet. But everyone knows you can’t trust them.” She was one of them. He likely was too. 

“Yeah, I like it.” He said simply. 

She didn’t have a contingency plan. Nothing to say after. 

This was going to be awkward. 

Story Time

She had been giggling about something silly she’d read on the internet. At first she had tried to resist. But then the first giggle popped out, and then there was a small squeak, and then the shaking of her shoulders, and silent laughter interspersed with a noise every so often. 

It was in the middle of one of these noises that he walked into the room. She had been very early, since she’d had to be up and moving for one errand or another that morning before lunch, and then the quick meeting she had scheduled with the professor before class. To bid the time she had logged into the website, and lo and behold! Funny! She’d forgotten that other students may be anxious to show up early and get their bearings. Grab a computer and log into facebook in the few minutes it took the professor to arrive and get organized. He was much earlier than anyone else would have expected. Perhaps he’d been bored too? 

She tried to reign in her giggles as he sat down in the small area across from her, placing his bag on the ground and taking of his coat. She looked at him from the corner of her eye, trying not to be too obvious about it. He however looked directly at her. 

“Something funny?” he asked. It was a dumb question to be sure, but she didn’t mind. It was an excuse to talk to him. 

“Mmhmm.” she nodded. “It’s dumb, but just one of those things you can’t help laughing at you know?” She gave him a quick, nervous smile, closing out of the window, and reaching to fidget with her phone. 

“You in the ———— class?” he asked. 

She nodded. Then held up her hand, waffling it back and forth. “Well…..kinda. I’ve gotta talk to ——- first. But he likes me, shouldn’t be a big deal. I’m guessing you are?” He nodded. 

“I’m worried about it. The first time I’ve done a class like this, but I needed the extra GenEd credit.” He brushed his hair from his eyes, a graceful movement. 

“Don’t be. ——- is a laid back guy. It won’t be too scary, unless it’s anything like the class last term. But that wasn’t anything to do with him or the structure. Just a bad group of kids.” She raised her hand in a salute as the professor walked through the door of the computer lab, strode the few steps it took to get to his office door and unlocked it. 

She smiled at the boy, as the professor regarded them curiously, before standing and making her way to the office to discuss the business they needed to sort out from last term. 

She couldn’t decide if having the boy in this class was a good thing or not. 

Story Time

She was making her way to the building, the sun shining, the air warm, the gentle clap, clap, clap of her converse all stars counting down the steps to the door. 

5…4…3…2…1…

It happened suddenly, too fast to properly recall later. One moment she was reaching for the door, eyes squinted shut in the sunlight, pulling the handle back towards her. He must have pushed in the same moment, his hands full of stuff, his back on the push handle installed on the inside. Obviously with his back turned, he couldn’t have known she was coming, and obviously with the sun in her eyes, and the glass tinted so dark, she couldn’t have known he was leaning against it. She pulled, his body pushed, he practically tumbled out the door and halfway into her arms, and halfway towards the ground. 

He scrambled to get his footing. 

“Sorry-“

“Oh! Sorry!”

Sheepish grins. Awkward pause. 

“I didn’t know you were there.” 

“I didn’t see you.”

“Sorry.”

His mother (or at least presumably) trailed out the door behind him, amused. She started walking, raising an eyebrow at him as he hesitated that clearly said “are you done gawking? Are you coming?” 

A last smile as he follows behind, and she steps through the door, both on their way about their business. 

Story Time

She returned to the building, hoping to see him there. Long story short? He wasn’t. She tried to fight back disappointment. It had been a long shot after all. He didn’t even know her name, and they’d only spoken a few times. Sometimes that’s just how it is. You meet a person, talk for a bit, and then they leave your life forever. 

It was just…she didn’t want him to be one of those people who disappeared. She couldn’t explain it. But there was an intense desire to be close to this person, this boy, this man. She didn’t know him, so she couldn’t say exactly what it was about him. It was just one of those connections. 

She’d heard or read somewhere, a beautiful excerpt, in which it was told that people destined to meet were bound by invisible yet somehow red ribbon, which could get tangled but never broken. She felt as if they were bound by this ribbon. She felt as if this ribbon was an important one. She hoped it just wasn’t to make one more regret in her life. 

Story Time

“Is it easy?” He asks. 

Again, he takes me by surprise; I never knew he was there, so engrossed was I in my task. I tilted my head. “Is what easy?” 

He gestured towards the camera. “Getting into photography.” I debated, eyes lifted towards the ceiling, my head waffling back and forth along with my right hand. 

“Yes and no.” 

“Oh?” A quick quirk of the eyebrows. I stepped closer, lowering myself into a seat adjacent. “Well,” I started. “Taking pictures? That’s easy. Anyone with any kind of camera or mobile phone can do that.” He nodded. “Taking good photos,” I continued. “Now that’s harder. It takes work. Practice. Love.” 

“Sounds like you do.” 

“What?”

“Love it.”

It was simple, unassuming, his statement. But it did mean the world. “Yes, I do. I’m passionate about it. Maybe not as much as others, but that’s my own failing. I’m invested. And it feels….natural. Do you have something like that?” 

He nodded, pointing towards one of the buildings near the one we were in.  I knew which one he was thinking of, since I knew a little about him. Not that he knew that of course. But it came with the territory, being passionate about the art I mean. Those that entered that building lived and breathed their craft. I smiled at him, to show that I understood. 

A group of girls passed behind him then, giggling about something or another, their bags nearly brushing his shoulders. He leaned forward, closer to me, and I could swear I saw the ghost of a twitch of a smile on his lips and face. 

We had to stop meeting like this. 

Story Time

I was on the second (and highest) floor of a building I didn’t have the greatest reason to be in. My camera was pointed south, looking into the sun shining through the windows near the ceiling. I had seen him from my peripheral vision, sitting at a small table in the corner, headphones in, book in hand. So rare that I saw a male with a book in his hands that wasn’t a textbook, or something required of him to read. 

Shooting digital, I didn’t have to worry about the amount of photos I was taking. I could allow myself to do exactly what I did, which was get lost in my task, seeing things in different lights, different angles. I hadn’t noticed when he had gotten up, slid his book back into his bag, and slung that over his shoulder, before trudging up the stairs at the precise moment I had been taking a photo of it. 

Serendipity. Is that the right word? 

Later that night I’d find that it had been the best shot of the day. His fedora halo-ing around his head in the sunlight, has features dimmed slightly by the darkness of the building and the type of lens I used. 

I knew there was movement, but it didn’t register until he was standing at my elbow, close enough for me to feel his breath, trying to look over at the image on my display screen. “Are you taking a photography class?” he asked. His voice was very pleasant. 

I looked up at him, and tried to give him a winning smile before leaning in conspiratorially. “Between you and me, the classes here are shit, if you’ll pardon my french.” I turned to face him properly. “I learn much more by doing this,” waving my hands to indicate the room. “Just going out and shooting. Plus the internet is always useful.”

He nodded. “But distracting.”

I smiled. “Very distracting. A big black hole of distracting.”

He started to move then, walking backwards down the hall to what I expected was one of his classes. He gave a little wave and a grin, and told me to have fun, before turning and going about his business.

It had been something at least.

A moment.  

Story Time

“Do you still love me?” comes the question.

I look up to see the reply. Soulful eyes stare up at me, unblinking. 

“Do you still love me, even though I get silly?”

A tilt of the head. 

“Do you still love me, even though I get angry?”

Head down, buried in soft blankets. 

“Do you still love me, even though I can be repulsive?” 

Big stretch. 

“Do you still love me, even though I can be really annoying at times?” 

A smile. 

“Do you still love me, even though I sometimes do wrong by you?” 

Digging through the sheets. 

“Do you still love me, even though I get upset, and sometimes give in and cry?” 

Rolling over onto back. 

“Do you still love me, even though I’m not perfect?” 

A tail wag. Yes. 

Unconditional. 

Story Time

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

I looked up, camera still in my hands. I had been crawling on the floor looking for the perfect shot. 

“Building. A mountain.” I said slowly. 

He looked at me as if I grew another head. Stupid question, stupid answer. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to talk to me, or just thought it was odd the lengths that I’d to go to get the picture I wanted. 

“Ah.” he said knowingly, but he didn’t know. He didn’t know all of what had led to that moment. He didn’t know anything at all. He didn’t know who I was. Who I am. 

He knew nothing. He didn’t even know that he knew nothing. It was almost sad, in a good way.