Cringe

One: Her

I was appalled by the conniving efforts of the the two gentlemen in the dark alley. They seemed to have convinced this benign woman that everything we have known in this world is just a poorly cloaked inconceivably harsh reality of what we like to call "Life".

I begged to differ.

Life had a number of things to offer despite an insurmountable reluctancy to procure our utmost attention. For instance a deep sense of belongingness in this city full of idiots. I'm not kidding. People's intellects are receding back to the stone age faster than that guy's hairline sitting across from where I was idly nestled, enjoying an average sized coffee of cup and taking two to three sips at a time.

I watched as the crowd walked passed them, oblivious to the her evident cry for help. Despite the frigid unforgiving weather, I seem to be warming up due to my eagerness to preempt the situation.

I was restless but I was hesitant.

"Leave me alone!" cried the woman in the sheer terror that her Michael Kors hand bag maybe a victim of forced transfer of ownership.

"Don't make me cut you bitch, let go of the bag!" said the man pointing a butterfly knife at her looking rather unfashionable but somehow functional, wearing a windbreaker and a pair of dark cargo pants. His bloodshot eyes were sunken in an obvious delusion that his dilemma may be uplifted by his sheer brute force alone. He couldn't be holding on to that idea for no reason. But reasons tend to wither amidst the blinding grip of hopelessness.

I clenched my fist to the point of hurting my hand. If I was Superman, my sharp stare would've just disintegrated both of them to smithereens.

But I wasn't.

But that doesn't mean I will sit around and watch these idiots try to mangle a perfectly decent signature hand bag in the hopes of stealing it away by consistently tugging it from her. So I decisively placed myself in middle of this in the hopes of contriving the situation. I stood up and walked towards them with a nagging feeling at the back of my head that this was a bad idea.

"Stop." I courageously announced.

Sort of.

Honestly I didn't know what I was doing but turning back was clearly out of the question. The two thugs looked viciously huge, they kind of reminded me of the Dynamic Duo, if they were evil and were hopped up on steroids.

"Get lost, if you know what's good for you." said the other guy, somehow less crazy but so is his hair. His whole demeanor screamed Neanderthals but with a little more etiquette. I curled my fists and sent an inconclusive and derivative move similar to that of Mohammad Ali's and hit one on the right in the back of his head. It sent him down the pavement falling flat on his chest.

"Tony? Why you little!" screamed the Neanderthal.

He was quite ambitious about his comeback though. I did knock his partner unconscious. He rushed towards me and swung a few punches but it departed away from me. I backed my self enough to evade his fists then I laid a punch or two straight to his face. Physics did most of the work, probably luck and my evident dominance with hand to hand combat. His landing wasn't too flamboyant though, he just sat there looking up at me with a flabbergasted look of obvious defeat. With his shaky knees, he flee from the scene, he was sagacious enough to avoid any more outright confrontation or there would be more ass whooping.

"Are okay madam?"

She did not respond quite just yet. She tightly held her handbag and all the way she squinted until she was sure that it was all over. By the looks of it, she was trembling, petrified of what happened. I don't blame her. Not many people get to experience what she went through, aside from getting front row seats to Fight Night, she was brave enough to endure the malevolent experience.

"Thank you good sir. You've been very brave."
"Naah, it was nothing. I mean they can't actually do that to you and get away with it."

I can't help but feel obliged to assist her in any way I can. She looked stricken by the incident but by her shear will she is trying to mask all obvious emotions.

"And what might be the name of my outspoken hero?" she inquired.
"My name is Tom." I replied as I reached out my hand.
"Anna." she said as she shook back.

Her eyes spoke what her lips didn't reveal. I saw a tinge of her soul in the few moments with her in that alley. Every detail about her I carved in my consciousness.

Her blue eyes.

And those dimples.

Wait. It couldn't be. Or could it?

Don't forget to vote. :)

P.S. Please add this to your reading list. :)