A short story: A Brief Encounter, by George Lomas

I saw her standing there alone in the cold, staring at me through the midst of endless faces that surrounded us both. I could tell she was attracted to me from the moment her eyes focused in on my existence. I knew she was tempted to come closer and tell me how she felt, her eyes searching for a sign that I felt the same way. They were beautiful eyes, eyes that glistened like a flame dancing carelessly on the edge of a candlestick. She was wearing a black leather jacket, a yellow chiffon scarf and a complexion that encapsulated her elegance. The scarf complimented the swinging plats of her peroxide blonde hair which had become restless in the wind. Every now and then she would tighten the intensity of her gaze and maintain it for slightly longer than she had done the time before. I was consumed by her focus and smiled out of a sense of lust and longing to be near her. She then turned away from me and started walking with the implication that I would follow her. Her eyes frequently found me through the crowds that blocked us from being together like a beacon of light in the dark. They mesmerised me and beckoned me to follow, and so I willingly complied. I wanted to hold onto the essence of our connection, a connection that was too powerful to ignore. We started to walk with more urgency as we entered the station. She went through the barriers and was instantly swept away by a cascade of commuters rushing to get home. All of a sudden, she was out of sight. I searched and searched, but it was to no avail. She was gone.

Sarah had been shopping all day trying desperately to find a present to please every member of her extended family. Having walked in and out of nearly every shop in Oxford Street, her legs now felt like dumbbells straining under the pressure of each step. Sarah finished her coffee and walked out into the moonlit darkness as shops were closing and the crowds were beginning to disperse. She started walking in the direction of the station when she felt someone staring at her, their eyes piercing through her barriers of vulnerability. It felt as if they were trying to reach into the depths of her soul and weaken her very nature. Sarah pivoted on the spot and saw a man wearing a dark suit looking straight into her eyes. She studied this figure, standing underneath the murky glare of streetlights. Did she know him? If so, where from? This mystery was shattered rather unnervingly when the figure started walking towards her, smiling. "Hello, Sarah”. She recognised that husky voice, all those disturbing phone calls, the clearly useless restraining order. Sarah hurried towards Bond Street station as quick as she could, her legs reluctant to succumb to the pressure of more walking. She slipped into the nearest crowd and glanced back to see him looking frantically in every direction. She had escaped her stalker.