Writing 101: Day 13: Serially Found


Writing 101: Day 13: Serially Found

(Prompt: write about finding something – interpret however you wish)


At 18 I was an extremely shy, music-loving girl, who used to frequent a local record shop every Saturday.  I sported a sort of grungy-hippie look of flowery dresses, A-line skirts, velvet jackets, Doc Martin boots and very long, dark hair.

He also had long hair, but fairer than mine, and had beautiful eyes; seriously, deliciously brown eyes.  Typical of my type; he wasn’t too tall, was kind of skinny, looked very cool, and had a warm smile.

I was hooked.  Yet what could I do?  He was way out of my league.  I was not cool or attractive as far as I could see.  I could barely look at him, let alone make conversation.  What was I to do?

Then I had a slightly crazy idea.  Especially for one so introverted.  I decided to give him my phone number.  The next time I went into the shop, I would slip a piece of paper to him when I bought something really cool.  After all, I had to make the right impression and show I was serious about my music.

So one Saturday I walked into the shop as usual, with the ticket to love in my hand.  I casually attempted to wander about and check out the new releases.  He wasn’t the only person working that day, so I had to time it right so that he’d serve me.

My moment arrived as he finished helping one customer and I went and stood behind them to ensure I would be next.  I went up to the counter, attempted a smile, waited anxiously as he searched for the album I was buying, paid him and … walked out.

I chickened-out!  I’d blown it.  I couldn’t do it.  I stood outside in the sun, but only felt the heat of shame at my lack of courage when my opportunity had arrived.  I put my sunglasses on, and was about to go home, defeated, when something made me walk back in, straight up to the counter, and say ‘I forgot to give you this,’  before handing over all my hopes on a small piece of paper, and leaving rather rapidly.  So fast was my entrance and exit in fact, that I hadn’t even taken my sunglasses off.

Smooth, eh?  No, not really, but at least I had tried, and felt elated on the journey home.  For the next week, every time the phone rang I froze, half expecting to hear mum call my name with a slightly curious tone to her voice, but she never did.

He never called.


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