Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Caitiff

caitiff \KAY-tif\, noun, adjective:
1. cowardly and mean


She would get her umbrella back.
That was just all there was to it. No hi-how-are-you. No give-my-love-to-your-mother. Don't be polite, Sarah. No tit-for-tats. That's just what he wants. That's what he likes. And she was through with doing things just trying to make him happy. For heaven's sake he practically attacked her with the thing, before running off with it. Flapped it haphazardly in her direction. Open and closed. Open and closed. Over and over again, like he was a penguin or something. His awkward way of trying to be funny. Well it wasn't funny. It was pouring rain outside and it was all landing on her head. She was drenched! Who bumps into other people and steals their umbrellas?! Honestly! Who does that?? Just him. Just this one. And somehow she'd been pegged the lucky girl to attract his attention. Now, there's clumsy and there's awkward and shy, and then there's him.
There's almost something sinister in his movements. Like he really had only wanted to get her soaked to the bone by the storm. Like that had been his only goal, his true desire. And not for the reasons that some other men may have wanted to see her clothes wet and clinging to her body, no. It's the shivers that he would get a kick out of. Seeing her shake and her lips get all blue. The cold raindrops dripping from her eyelashes. Her Converses making squooshing noises as she stepped forward, trying to grab the umbrella back from him. Not a chase though. A chase wouldn't have interested him. She knew this.
He probably would have just given her the damn thing back after not much more fuss, if that guy from her Calculus class hadn't called out to her. She knew if she just waited for him to have his fun, waited as he skipped and danced around her with the thing, held her breath as her fingertips grew colder, and didn't fight, didn't whimper, he'd grow tired of the game and make some quip about just-having-a-little-fun before handing it back to her, and skipping off.
But then her friend (what was his name?) from class had called out to her and interrupted the sequence. He paused. Missed a beat then, didn't he? Oh, how he must of looked to a stranger. She can only imagine how he appears to others. He must look like a fool. Or does she?
At that moment, he looked at her and cocked an eyebrow, a grimace, and then a grin flashed across his face, and then he was gone. Umbrella still in hand, he left her there. Cold. Wet. Wondering. He always leaves her wondering.

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