Strangers in the Night
Kira had always been a night owl, by any standards. If she got four hours of sleep consecutively, the night was considered successful. She usually took sporadic catnaps during the day instead of sleeping when she technically was
supposed to. She was well aware of the fact that her sleep patterns were fucked up and unhealthy but basically didn't care. She was a nonconformist by nature and didn't feel it necessary to live a "normal" life, sleep patterns included.
NYC had been her home for quite some time now. What better place to live when you're an aspiring artist? Not to mention her odd habits. In a city this big, there were bound to be people far stranger than you. People were more open minded here than they had been in her small hometown, too. Kira made a living selling her drawings to various companies throughout the city, and from time to time she would display her sketches on the street. She actually sold a good number of drawings this way.
She lived in a small apartment near Central Park. That location was very important to her. She loved Central Park, a place where she'd spent many sleepless nights. Some of her best work was done during these nightly escapades. She loved the peace that overcame everything at night. Even busy places like Central Park were peaceful and calming at three in the morning.
Her friends were always scolding her about her 'dangerous' habits. They had told her a million times at least that New York at night wasn't a safe place for a girl in her early twenties. Kira refused to live in fear of strangers in the night. She refused to give up something that made her truly happy.
Tonight was a Central Park night. It was summer, so her clothing consisted of a pair of faded jean shorts that she'd found on her bedroom floor, a burgundy tank top, and a pair of broken in, comfy sandals that she'd owned for years. She had grabbed a blue sweater jacket at the last minute, figuring it might be cold at night, even in summer. It didn't exactly match, but that fact never seemed to bother her. It didn't matter what she wore much anyway since she was the type of person who looked good in anything from sweats and a T-shirt to evening gowns.
Kira wandered through the park, sketchbook in hand, waiting for something to spark her interest. She came upon a lamppost and a nearby tree, with an incredible contrast of lights and darks, that captured her interest. After settling herself cross-legged on a park bench, she focused her attention on the simple yet beautiful scene before her. She studied the forms and the shadows for a few moments before setting to work, doing what she had always done best. Drawing.
Her eyes followed every curve, every shadow, every angle, as the images before her took shape in the sketchbook on her lap. The formerly crisp, white paper was now covered in shapes, lines, and shading, until there were only grays and blacks and no trace of pure white at all.
Just then, a man walked through her picturesque scene. Her first reaction was one of anger. How dare anyone disturb the tranquility of her section of the park? But as he stepped from shadows into the light, all feelings of hostility melted away. He was the perfect addition to that beautiful scene, an artist's dream. The serene look on his features fit right into the peaceful nature of her drawing. She wished she could freeze him in time so his image could be captured on paper forever. The light played from behind him, so that his gorgeous golden-brown curls glowed, and he looked like a perfect angel.
He continued on, giving her a little nod and a smile as he passed by.
She froze.
That smile. That smile had the light of a thousand suns. It was beautiful; it was poetry. He smiled at her like she was the only one in the whole world. That smile was the kind that could make you weak in the knees. That smile could take your breath away.
And the little nod. The way there was hardly any movement involved at all, but at the same time, it seemed like...
She caught herself. 'What the hell? How old are you, Kira? Twelve, maybe?' She scolded herself, shaking her head, barely able to refrain from slapping herself.
As he passed by her, she managed to smile back before he was gone from sight. Shaking her head again, she returned to her sketching.
Kira hadn't gone unnoticed herself. Though he would hardly admit it, he had paused in the shadows for several minutes, content to just watch her.
She was amazing.
He was mesmerized by the way the messy curls framed her face perfectly, how they bounced as she moved her head ever so slightly, drinking in every inch of that damn lamppost.
'Damn, I wish she'd look at me like that,' he thought, only moments before he began chuckling softly at his own stupidity.
He took one last long look at her before forcing himself to continue on his way.
And then she'd seen him. She'd looked up from her drawing and looked at him, just as he had wished for only moments ago.
Her eyes floated over him from head to toe, yet it was not at all unnerving. He could tell she was sketching his features in her mind, the same way she had done with the lamppost and the tree.
And then he'd seen her eyes, those deep brown eyes that you could get lost in for days. Weeks even. And when she'd smiled, it was...
He stopped in his tracks. "Dear God, you've lost it this time, Timberlake," he said aloud, before shaking his head and continuing. "You're acting like a male version of those damn teenies."
Kira still sat on the bench. To any onlooker, it would appear as if nothing had changed. She continued sketching her scene with complete precision, but couldn't seem to get that man off her mind. Her usual dedication to her work was somewhat lacking.
All of a sudden, Kira felt a strong, rough hand cover her mouth from behind. Another one grasped her shoulder and pulled her off the bench onto the ground. The man straddled her small form, removing the hand from her mouth
momentarily to unzip her sweater jacket. She took the opportunity to scream bloody murder. He slapped her across the face and mumbled something that sounded like "stupid bitch." His hands moved down her body slowly to her shorts, and she cringed as his hands touched the bare skin of her stomach.
Yards away, Justin heard a bloodcurdling scream. His mind flashed to an image of the beautiful girl and her peaceful scene. Before he knew it, he was running in the direction of where he'd left her. As he approached the spot where she'd been sitting, he noticed her lying on the ground by the bench, a large man on top of her.
Without even thinking, he leaped onto the man, tackling him so that they both went flying to the side. The two men wrestled in the dirt, nearly equal in strength. Kira somehow managed to find her cell phone and call 911. But by the time she'd gotten through and told the operator what was happening, the man had punched Justin in the stomach and shoved him to the ground, before running off hurriedly.
Seeing him lying there, the phone fell from Kira's hand, and she crumpled at his side sobbing. Clutching his throbbing side with one hand, he wrapped his other arm around her shaking form, pulling her to him.
She clung to him as the police sirens came closer to Central Park. He held her as he answered their questions and described the man as best he could. The police went off to search the park and the surrounding area, and the medical technicians came up to help them. Very carefully, Justin rose to his feet, still clutching the hysterical Kira and slowly, they made their way to the waiting ambulance.
Later, in the safety of the hospital, Justin's arms still protectively locked around her, Kira began to reclaim control of her thoughts. The events of the night would probably haunt her for a long time, but it could have been much worse. There was only one thing that she was sure of at that moment. Strangers in the night could be good things too. Angels even.
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