New Story Idea

Some people prefer last words; I prefer the first ones. By the time your last words are spoken, you’ve had enough time to plan them out, get them to roll perfectly off your tongue and out into the world. It’s the first ones that will surprise you, pop out and make a mess of things. We don’t have control over our first words, and that’s what makes them special.

When he said his first words to me, it was on a dreary Tuesday afternoon. “Well, aren’t you just the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” The man was mammoth. Tall in a way that made people stutter upon seeing him, and hair that reminded me of a dormouse, he was something else. All freckly and gawky, he wasn’t much to look at, excepting his height, of course. Then he smiled. He leaned over the counter, branding a flashing smile reminiscent of the old toothpaste commercials back when we had TV. I almost expected a sparkle to appear with a faint dinging sound.

I didn’t have time in my day to respond. So I didn’t. I still had a day’s worth of filing to do, not to mention my boss would’ve had my head if I fell behind again. Running around the store, I kept up with my work, not letting some behemoth of a man get in my way.

He spoke up two minutes later, grabbing my wrist as I rushed on past. “I do hate to be rude, but a girl like yourself should know that she really is beautiful.”

“I thought you were talking to the cat.”

His eyes flew wide, and his head tilted slightly to the right. “Don’t think too much of yourself, do you?” He asked, still holding on to my wrist.

I shrugged my wrist out of his grip. “No more or less than a normal person. It’s just a beautiful cat.”

I didn’t know that later, I would be dying to hear those first words from him again.