The Stranger
“Now, as we stand three feet apart and stare at each other, I feel the full distance that comes with spending so much time apart, a moment filled with the electricity of a first meeting and the uncertainty of strangers.” -Marie Lu, Champion.
The beginning of my morning should’ve started easily, instead, I was met face to face with someone new.
He stood a good distance in front of me, the only thing between us was the door, and frankly, I wanted to shut it and go back to bed. But he said something to me, that made me want to stay.
His clothes were wrinkled, yet I could see his chest rising. Up and down. He’s been running, I thought. Although we never spoke, I could see that his eyes had so much to say, and I held them with my own. I was quite curious, intrigued to figure out why this unfamiliar face stood in front of me, with sharp blue piercing eyes.
“How long has he been dead for?” He finally spoke, his voice harsh and tired. I furrowed my eyebrows, confused and unaware of who he spoke of.
“Excuse me? I think you have the wrong hou-“, “Your brother, how long has he been dead for?” he cut me off, asking me again. I swallowed hard.
What are you suppose to do in a situation, when a stranger comes up to your door, and asks about your late brother? There wasn’t much to do, just to close the door and call the police.
I started for the door, but he wedged his foot into it before I could close it any further. He held out a piece of paper to me, it was riddled with dirt and some type of..wetness.
I was scared, but reluctant to take a look at the words inscribed onto it. There it read some type of riddle, like it was a childish game being played;
What is broken when it’s not held? I have rivers without fish and roads without cars, I have deserts without heat and snow lands without cold, I have mountains without height and canyons without depth. I can bring tears to your eyes and a smile to your face. I form in an instant and last for a lifetime, but I can be forgotten.
I repeated the complex written poem to myself, confused as to what it had to do with me, I then found myself meeting the stranger’s eyes again.
“What is this?” I asked, looking around to see if my neighbors would notice our odd conversation. “My parking ticket.” He smirked, the hint of sarcasm dripped from his words. “It’s a note, I found it at your brother’s grave, it was just lying there,” He complied, pushing the door open and inviting himself in.
Little did I know, that this note would change my late brother’s death, in a big way.
