#firstimpression

You sit on the bench that you always sit on to feed the birds. The bench looks out onto the trees that play with the light on the trickling river. The wind moves through the wheat like plants at your feet. You reach into your small clothed bag and let the seeds drop from your hand. The white birds that dwelled in the park flutter over to the scattered food. You spend a while watching the birds that surround you eat. 

You lift your head up at some point and realize that you are not the only person in the park. A bit of to the distance you can outline the silhouette of a tall slender man.  He was facing you so you could see the way the sun accentuated the brown in his dark hair and the lines that formed on his forehead as he looked deep in thought at his canvas. His coat was neatly folded on the ground and the sleeves to his white turtleneck were pulled up. Despite his attempt at being orderly you could see the splatters of green and blue on his delicate hands. Eventually, you see him pick up a brush and begin to paint. You continue to watch him, fascinated by the way he was so caught up in where to put what color. There is a moment in which he takes a longer pause and looks up. When he does so, he catches your eye.

You look away quickly and even more quickly collect your things and leave. You can’t figure out whether your cheeks are flushed due to being caught or from your brisk walking. Either way you can’t help but think that the way the sunlight shone in the stranger’s eyes was captivating. 

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The following day you had no time to dwindle at the park. You had several errands to run in town. You move through the crowd going from shop to shop picking up things you need. More tea, fresh fruit, an assortment of cloth. You are on your way to the last shop you need to go to when you notice someone exiting one of the many shops. You stop in your tracks to watch how this person was hugging a canvas to their chest. Their figure seems familiar and so does what the long coat they are wearing. It then hits you that the brown coat you were looking at was the one you saw folded to the sided yesterday. Snapping out of your daze you follow the coat through the crowd. You’re not sure why you have the urge to go after this person or what you would say if you caught up to them. Luckily, you don’t because you feel someone grip your wrist. You turn to face you friend, your eyes are wide and your breathing is heavy. 

“Are you alright y/n?”

“Y-yes” 

“Where were you going?” Your friend asks smiling obliviously.

“Um” you say looking back in the direction you had been going in just to see that the man has disappeared from your sight. 

“Nowhere, just going to buy some spices for my mother” 

“Oh, isn’t the store for that in the opposite direction?”

“Yes, it is isn’t it?” you say, hoping your friend doesn’t catch your bluff. 

“I’ll go with you.” your friend says as she intertwines her arm with yours. 

While walking towards the spice shop you wonder if your friend might have some information about this fascinating stranger. She is always updated on who is who in town, “I’m not a gossip”,she’s told you. “I just like knowing as much as I possibly can.” You on the other hand don’t feel the need to know everyone, but just this once you consider using your friend’s so called knowledge. 

Upon entering the store the two of you begin to  browse through the spice racks. After finding all the things you need and then trying your best to approach your friend naturally.

“So, you know everyone in town right?”  

She looks up at you inquisitively “Yes, why do you ask?”   

“I was just wondering if you knew a fellow in a light brown coat, I think he might also paint.”

She looks like she is searching in her head for the description you gave her. She smiles at you as she says “Oh right, I overheard from the lady who sells paint that his name is Mark and he is indeed an artist.” You hum and nod in response. Your friend asks you again “Why the intrigue? Has someone finally caught your eye? Why an artist at that? They don’t even make any money.”  Was the prodding that just ensued worth a name and something you already knew? It didn’t matter, you suppose because you paid for what you needed and flew out the door before your friend could continue to ask you questions.

You walk home while evening was setting in. The entire walk you can’t stop thinking about how this stranger you just met finally had a name. You didn’t know what else to do with that information really except for relishing in your crush. 

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The next morning when you wake up you are admittedly giddy to go back to the park. You tell yourself that neither you’re excitement or the pretty clothing you were wearing had anything to do with Mark. But those were obvious lies. You pick up your bag of seeds and a basket of peaches and head out the door.The day is wonderful,the air is light, and the sun is warm, but not scorching. You arrive at your usual spot and notice that Mark is not here today. You’re not disappointed though because you think he could show up later. Yet, you empty out your bag and the birds have dispersed and Mark is still not there. You leave downtrodden and a bit ashamed of having been so dressed up and having brought snacks. Snacks that you thought the two of you could have shared. It almost makes you consider not going back tomorrow. 

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You find yourself once again at your bench. It’s been a while since you had seen Mark either at the park or in town. He seemed to not be anywhere at all. Your friend had suggested that, that was just the way artists were you would not see them days on end when they had something to work on. You assumed that was true, yet for some reason you longed to see this stranger once again. And today your yearning wish was granted. You looked up from the birds at your feet to see a long brown coat and Mark in the coat carrying an easel. You watch him set up his things in the same position that they had been in the last time you saw him. When he’s done he looks up and then at you. This time he’s the one who averts his gaze and looks somewhat nervous. He rubs his hands on his shirt before looking over at you again and making his way towards you. You’re shocked that he is walking over to you, so much so that you can’t jump up and run away like you did last time. Soon enough he is standing in front of you, blocking the little sunlight that had been hitting you. 

Now that he is closer you can tell that he is indeed nervous. He has a sheepish smile and his hands are clasped together as he wrings them.

He breaks the silence first with an “um” before proceeding to say:

“My name is Mark, I’m a novice painter who just moved to town. I just finished my first piece and was wondering if you could take a look at it?” 

“Me?”

“Yeah, well, you’re kind of the subject of it so…” he mutters everything else after “well” so all you hear is “yeah”. You follow him back to where his things are. 

You’re finally able to see the painting he had been working on that first day you saw him. You realized that not only is he too good to be a novice, but also that the first day you saw him technically only applied to you. That is because the painting included you. You and your flock of birds were at the bottom of the painting, still visible, but not the centre of the painting. Yet the simple brown buildings in the background made your soft pastel clothing stand out a bit. 

Before you could say anything Mark’s soft voice interrupted your thoughts when he says.

“I apologize if you think this is disturbing, it just seemed natural to add you into the painting. It needed something more than just buildings.”

“That’s alright, it’s a very pretty piece” You finally say. 

“You can keep it” he tells you, smiling sweetly. 

He scratches the back of his neck before saying “I was actually wondering if… possibly…. You’d like to get some coffee… with me” 

Your heart was beating with excitement and you had no idea that so was his.