The Tracks of Life

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Iris

"Mr. Ruffles..." I meowed weakly.

I was fully prostrate, lying face down on the chilly ashen subway concrete.

Nghh... Every little bone in my body must have been broken.

I winced at the pain spreading throughout my mandible.

My fingers brushed over my chin, which hurt like hell. They came back smeared with bright-red blood droplets pooling on their tips.

Owww.

Klutz that I was, I was still desperately clutching one of my shoes.

Just where the fuck was the other one?

No one had even noticed I fell. The human beehive went about its own daily business.

All of the southbound train passengers' eyes were now trained on the gaping doors.

Maybe it was for the best. I did not want the world to see me like this.

I couldn't move. And he was gone.

A malignant please-stand-back speaker sound obscured my squeal.

My plea couldn't bridge the gap between us.

"Mr. Ruffles!" I cried out feebly one more time.

Mr. Ruffles?

"You silly, stupid idiot." I couldn't help the cursing. Chasing a dream, I had made a fool of myself.

I lowered my head, tears blurring my view.

Blinking them away, I tried to get up. Jolts of pain ran through my left knee. I hissed in frustration and sat down on the first step of the stairs as his train left the station.

The stupid tracks mocked me. They were as empty as my un-Ruffled life.

What a shitty day.

A pair of polished shoes and gray pants entered my field of view.

Ready to snap at the intruder, I looked up and gasped. The ruffled hair, the square glassesI'd know that face anywhere.

Mr. Ruffles stood right there in front of me.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but a potato-sized lump formed in my throat, blocking any words.

He squatted down.

So close.

His hand crossed the tiny gap still separating us and touched mine.

His palm felt warm against my fingers. The magic of his curls made me smile.

Tiny, smiley wrinkles marked the corners of his eyes.

I could drown there. For an eternity.

Never had I felt such peace. Never had I been so close to someone.

"Braces?" he said.

What about my braces? I hid my teeth, ready to snap at him. But his worried frown stopped me.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Still speechless, the best I managed was a silent nod.

His brow unfrowned, and a shy smile inched onto his lips. He held up a familiar shoe.

My shoe!

How had he got it?

"I believe this might be yours." His warm fingers seized my foot, gently, and placed the shoe on it. "I thought so. A perfect fit."

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