One September Day

September was Justin's favorite time of year, especially growing up in New England. He loved to be outside, walking around amidst the people of the city, living in each of life's little moments as they come and pass as quickly as the Boston cab drivers. Whenever he left the apartment, he was sure to have three things on him; his notebook and pen, along with a camera. Justin was a firm believer in capturing those little moments as a way to look back and smile on the yesterdays of tomorrow.

A short walk from Justin's apartment, down the center of Commonwealth Ave, lead him to his favorite spot to sit and write. Its a fact Boston Common has one of the most unique views of the entire city skyline because essentially, you are right in the middle of it all. But from that spot, sitting atop the hill not too far from Frog Pond, Justin sat almost every day late in the afternoon, working on some story he was attempting to launch off the first page.

The sun was high in the bright blue afternoon sky, and the city was loudly screaming the sounds of cars, horns, and sirens. The park was swarming with people all attempting to savor the fading days of decent weather and happy moods. As Justin had learned the year before, Bostonians become less friendly and even more sarcastic the lower the temperature gets. But that was not the case this day, the sun was shining, people were out and about, and even though the Red Sox were thirteen back of the Yankees for first place, life was still good.

The only thing Justin, a rather handsome twenty-something single guy living alone in the big city, did more than write while he was in the park was people watch. Truth be told, he drew a lot of inspiration from the people walking around him. Downtown was always a good source of entertainment; the people there almost never disappoint a writer sitting high on his block of nothingness. As was the case on this early September day, there he sat pen in hand, a blank page in front of him, and his eyes everywhere but on that page. And thats when he saw her there, a beautiful brunette in a Red Sox hat.

Justin watched her as she walked towards the giant oak tree he was sitting under. He sat there motionless, smiling at her as she approached him and asked, 'Do you have the time?' He thought to himself, 'The time for me to take you to dinner?' He checked his watch and responded, 'A quarter past three.' The girl seemed frustrated so he asked if there was anything he could do to help her and as it turned out, she believed she had been stood-up by a guy she really liked and didn't know what to do. She had never been stood-up before. 'You look out of this world amazing,' he said, 'and it's his loss for not wanting to come see you. I know the best part of my day has been the last two minutes that you have been talking to me, and if I was him, I'd always want to spend my life's little moments this happy.' She smiled and quickly forgot why she was even there in the park that September day. She sat down next to him under the giant oak tree and there they sat for hours, talking about who they were and where they had been. He explained that he was a writer, and she told him her passion was reading. And the one thing they shared more than anything else was a undying love of the Red Sox. She told him the story behind her hat, which was her first Red Sox hat because she was from New York and had grown up a Yankees fan. In the past, with any other girl, that would have been a deal breaker. Justin had one rule when it came to dating woman; No Yankees fans.

As the sun set and the park grew dark and empty, Justin did what any other decent guy would have done in that situation, he offered to walk her home. 'Nobody has ever offered to walk me home before, not even once.' He looked back at her in disbelief, pausing in his steps and saying, 'Thats a shame, the walk home is the best part of the night.' She lived just a few blocks away from Justin in Kenmore Square, which was part of the Fenway Park neighborhood, a personal favorite of his since he was a little kid and first stepped foot there, coming to Boston for the very first time from Cape Cod, for his very first Red Sox game. Coming from New York, she had never been inside the ballpark before, though she did admit to walking over there during games just to be part of the magic of Fenway, which he had done so many times since moving to the city he had lost track. Justin was quickly realizing how lucky he felt he had met this girl, even though they had been together for nearly five hours now and he still didn't know her name.

When they arrived at the foot of the stoop in front of her apartment, she lit a cigarette and leaned against the railing. Justin sat on the top step, quietly sneaking a picture of this girl as she silently smoked a Marlboro. The night was silent and still, very few cars in the street, and if not for one old man in a hat and his tiny dog, nobody walking the sidewalks. The tree along the street we swaying in the light breeze, and under the street light sat an alley cat. They took it all for a few moments and as Justin took one final drag of his cigarette, she did the same. They both tossed their butt into the street, turned, and caught each others eye. She stood there in front of him, a few inches shorter that he was, but seemingly the perfect size for his arms. He said not a word, and she squeezed tightly, as though she was holding onto something more than just some stranger she had met in the park. He looked at their reflection in the glass door leading into her building and saw himself smiling as he held on to her, afraid to let go, fearing he may never see her again. As much as he hated that thought, in the back of his mind he saw himself with someone he was comfortable with, as though he had known her for years. He leaned back, took both of her hands into his, and looked directly into her eyes. He felt his knees weaken and a pit at the bottom of his stomach, a feeling he had not felt since high school moments before his very first kiss. She looked back at him, with her hair in her face he let go of one hand, brushed back her hair, and he kissed her with such a slow passion that chills shot down his spine and he knew right there in her kiss that she was the one for him.

The night had become the very early morning, and there they sat quietly on the stoop, side by side, watching the world pass them by all around. For the first time in his life, Justin found himself content. He wasn't looking for inspiration on a page, nor was he consumed with the pressures of making a first impression. None of those things mattered to him anymore, which sounds absurd for a guy who doesn't even believe in love at first sight. He always thought in order to love someone, you must first get to know them. All of his past relationships had followed that simple golden rule, and because of that he had never experienced falling so fast for someone the entire world stops. Yet there he was, with a beautiful girl without a name, watching the early morning sun brighten the sky. 'I think I should go to bed,' she said in a faint whisper. He paused, and then just kissed her forehead, stood up and reached for her hand, and then said, 'Sleep tight beautiful.' She smiled at him and turned towards the door to go inside. When she began to step inside, he shouted, 'Wait! Before you go I need to know something.' 'What's that?' she questioned. 'Your name,' he said. Without hesitation, she blew him a kiss and closed the door, looking back just once to see if he was still standing there. He was still standing there, completely dumbfounded and speechless. But he thought to himself, "You got to give her style points." He then reached for a cigarette and his zippo and started down the street towards the subway. Morning was suddenly upon him, with birds chirping and car horns honking. It was a new day in the city, and so far, it was the best damn day Justin had ever had.