LET ME ROLL IT*

[paul jeremy bassett]

Shouldering his well worn satchel and with guitar case in his left hand, Paul began to make his routine walk back through his campus to the car. The air was thick and smelt of wet stone, promising a storm later that evening. Even as Paul squinted to find at least a sliver of moon from behind the parade of clouds he head a low rumble of thunder in the distance.

"Damn."

The wind was working up a frenzy and tumbling leaves and other debree across the walk way, and the agitated air was blowing his shaggy hair into his vision, along with whipping against his bare lips and nose.

Paul found the moon, a distorted halo surrounded it and stained the clouds with the most fantastic electric blue he had ever seen. The grounds were still dark as he walked, even with the lamps lighting the path along as he walked.

Trying to distract himself from the impending storm he'd probably be stranded in, Paul recalled various bits and moments from his long day.


"This song, I promise..." Paul mused ecstatically, fingering the keys of the piano in an arpeggio motion as he talked to the girl in front of him. She was sitting with her slim legs gracefully crossed on the seats in front of the piano, her hair identical in color to the orange she was snacking on.

"You hardly have anything more than a melody, Paulie." She began, Paul was studying the sharp contours of her pale face. "If you want it to be worth much you need more! You need lyrics that call from your heart..." She finished, slipping a piece of the citrus fruit between her bow lips. Sometimes, Paul fancied her like mad but -


The first raindrop landed with an audible 'plip' on the tip of his nose, startling him out of his daydream.

Paul completely veered off the path and spirited away in the now violent downpour of the storm, the fields acting as sponges and sucking up the water all too eagerly. He slipped and slid along in the now tiny and localized marshes, tumbling through the loose grass, dirt and mulch.

After he stopped to catch his breath under a small veranda, Paul could not recognize how long he had been running after he had slipped down onto his chest in the storm. He set his satchel and guitar case down next to his feet and began to brush the moist gunk away from his very nice black coat.

Another audible "Damn" escaped his lips as he plopped down to sit on the top of his case and wait for the storm to pass.

[savannah raegan king]

leaning against the couter of one of buffalo's locally owned coffee shops, annah fiddled with the small bell that usually rested on the cash register. had there been more customers, she would have left the bell in it's place, but the shop was deserted and she enjoyed the tinkling noise that filled the small space. with a bored sigh, she lifted herself onto the counter, legs thump-thumping against the cupboards as she waited for another rush of coffee-thirsty people.

'rain, rain, go away, come again some other day..'

eyes glued to the window, annah continued to sing the song under her breath, watching hopefully as potential customers walked by but didn't pause to enter the shop. frowning slightly, she slumped her shoulders and slid off the counter, arms crossed as she made her way across the space to the front of the store.

'oh, come on.. just one person.'

dragging her feet along the last stretch of hardwood floor, annah lifted the blinds until the window was completely uncovered. with a smirk, she lifted a hand to the foggy glass and began drawing small designs to the kill time. by the time she was done, she'd managed to cover the top corner in an intricate array of lines, all intertwined and connected in some way or another.

'not too shab--'

eyes wide, annah watched as a decently tall man stopped under the varanda, guitar case propped up on the pavement as a makeshift seat. with a mischievous grin, she stepped toward the front door and poked her head out. looking him over once or twice before opening her mouth, she couldn't deny that she was pleasantly surprised by what she saw.

's'cuse me.. but if you're planning on hanging out under there for long, you're going to have to buy a coffee. the protection of the varanda is for customers only.'

- - - - - - - - - -

notes sorry if it's shit, my roommate keeps blabbing on and on about crap and it's hard to focus.

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[paul jeremy bassett]

Her initial comment slipped past his immediate reaction as he'd been terribly engrossed in his current thought process, but, quite suddenly, he noticed the girl peeking out from behind a cracked door barely a foot away.

's'cuse me.. but if you're planning on hanging out under there for long, you're going to have to buy a coffee. the protection of the varanda is for customers only.'

He stared dumbly at her for a slight moment, then composed himself with a few blinks and the most charming smile.

He spoke from over his shoulder towards her, saying "Well, that seems fair enough!" and stood up with such vigor you'd think he'd had a hairy eightlegged creature treck along his feet. He was a rather excitable fellow, demanding change and movement at all time. It was obvious through his speech, always using his hands to accentuate his conversation.

Paul's eyes did a quick visual sweep of her figure, interested but still nonchalant about the matter.

"I ruined my best coat out in the storm, sorry for my appearance. If I'd known we'd meet up for coffee I'd have been more careful!" Paul's voice was surprisingly deep, but not too deep, for his demeanor, lacking that certain boom that could make ears ring. His singing voice was always much smoother and higher than what was expected, Paul found comfort in high notes rather than low ones.

Paul slipped the satchel back over his shoulder, and tightly gripped his old guitar case in his hand. It was his baby, his wife, and it didn't even have to beat him up for alimony!

occ: Sorry I'm sick and on cough medicine...I'm not sure what the hell I even wrote.

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