Yazaan
She's perspective. I'll grant her that. It was clearly her first time on the run but I had a hard time keeping up with her. Surprised me and annoyed me too. It was definitely beginner's luck. Still, after a week when I managed to track her down- partly because of the trail of chocolate purchases for the little girl she had with her- she sensed me, immediately. I'd been trailing her quietly ever since she came out of that blasted inn with a bad-tempered, grumpy-looking redhead and kept throwing nervous glances in my direction. I was sure she didn't know I was here but it couldn't merely just be a coincidence that she would look my way each and every damn time. It had to be some super sixth sense; I prided myself on being inconspicuous.
My employer had assigned me only to keep her, that is the young woman named Alayna, under watch. Such a job was beneath me but after the mortifying way she'd knocked me out the last and first time we came face to face with each other, I wouldn't deny that I had grown curious. After all, it isn't every day that I get rendered unconscious for the first time by a blow to the head no less by a woman. Can it be any more humiliating than that?
I spot Alayna then again, but this time she's headed toward me. She doesn't see me but is rushing in my direction. Quick as the flick of a finger I burrow deep inside the shadowy alley but not before I see the reason for her hurried getaway.
A man, ordinary and harmless, but has the bad luck to have the same dressing choice as mine had been heading towards her completely oblivious of the fact that a certain someone had mistaken him. Swallowed by the shadows he was invisible with his dark cloak melting in the darkness. Alayna blundered her way into the alley breathing heavily. Amused, I observe her silently. She's a
head shorter than me with a heart-shaped face. Her most striking feature is her eyes. They were what normal people would describe as hazel colored and the poets would say ' a base of brown awash with flecks of green and a splatter of blues'; and I'd go with the poetic description.
She presses her palms to her cheeks then hugs herself tightly rocking back and forth and sneaking a peek outside unaware of who behind her is the one she was supposed to be shaking off. As she steps out of the alley, convinced perhaps that her stalker has probably lost her, I can't help but give in to my mischief-starved side.
I step quietly behind her, not quite able to mask my grin, and say, "Hello, are you alright Miss?" She whirls around so fast, I'm struck with a flashback of a moment very much similar to this one. Thankfully, though there is no weapon on her. Silly girl, I think to myself. She on the other hand looks terrified and flabbergasted. Making a noncommittal sound, she turns on her heels and flees away.
Even long after she's gone, I'm still slumped against the alley wall, laughing my head off. Things are certainly getting interesting. At least I won't be bored. I head back to the grimy inn where I'm staying. The smile on my face refuses to leave so I let it be. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll introduce myself to her.