Mona meets John
A soft, echoing knock hatches the cocoon around me. The door opens to the hall. Strong hiking boots step in. They look as if once they were expensive, but now spots of traveling time showed trough, discoloring the soft leather. Half dragging on the floor, two long denim pillars held up the rest of the body. A flat chest sported a cute cotton tee shirt with a Far Side comic, which hung loosely around the body under shoulders that consumed my peripheral vision. Looking up, I came to a face. At first glance, his was not an attractive face, but an intriguing one. Scars spotted his face, showing signs of acne now gone. His lips pouted in thought, curling at the edges, as he looked around. I continued my journey up his body, a journey that seemed would never end, and I secretly wished it wouldn’t. I came to two small skies, residing in that face, hidden by droopy lids, under furrowed brows. Soft, pine-colored, locks fell almost to his massive shoulders, thin because the underside had once been shaved, long ago, or so it appeared, for it had now grown back to a normal length. I stared at him. He was so plain, so average, in ways, but nothing like I had ever seen before. Something about him caught me, entranced me. I looked him over again. His oddities were already beginning to grow on me, in me. Standing there, long and thin, but tough and strong, he was intruding on my simple life, complexing things, becoming a part of me.