a new friend - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Meeting someone new is a divine pleasure. Regardless of how things turn out, I love the dance that begins. The most important idea is to be able to get a true feeling for who they are over a few weeks and months without ever forming an opinion of them. You let them develop as a old polaroid photograph, nice and slow. Perhaps they are a life long friend, a lovable rouge or a person too damaged to give in an emotionally warm and nurturing way. So, my new friend, all I can say is I am glad we met.
New friends came along about as often as lottery wins for Hector and he burnt through them just as fast. One moment they were joined at the hip and the next they vanished from his life taking every precaution to avoid accidental contact. He sat heavily at the bar hoping to get one in before Jerry arrived, just something to take the tension from his shoulders and loosen his tongue. After two sips he felt a heavy clap on his shoulder and smelled the aroma of cuban cigars. He turned with an overly hearty, "Jerry!" and stood for a man hug right as his new pal turned away to order his beer.
Sabine sat on the edge the park bench, her eyes trained keenly on the path for Jerome's beaten leather shoes. It was odd for her to make a connection so fast, to give her trust so easily, tentative though it was. There was something in the way he smiled, a warmth, a genuineness, a softness of spirit she just couldn't pass up. He listened like he was absorbing her words, not simply getting her "turn" over and done with so he could return to some other topic. The more time she spent with him the more her spirit lifted, he was the new friend she'd needed for so long.
What, you’re uncomfortable? You don’t know what I look like? Well, take Angelina Jolie and put forty pounds on her, make her hair way less perfect, take off the make-up and add some freckles. Make the bone structure not quite so perfect, and take a few inches off her height, I’m average. I wasn’t always overweight though, not that I even look fat for my age really, just not skinny anymore. Hang on a minute, someone else is here. Oh, it’s Marsha, my longtime friend and she’s laughing her ass off. What, Marsha? I don’t look like Angelina? Not even if the Hunger Games prep team did overtime on me? Huh? Well, at least my husband is better lookin’ than Brad Pitt. There, that did it, she’s just giving me the raised eyebrow look now ‘cause she knows it’s true.
We only knew each other through Keira at first, we knew each other just enough to smile at each other and wave 'hello' in the corridors, then came the performance. We hung out and got to know each other, and I'm not sure if that night was when it happened, but by the next time I saw her, I knew that I could call her, a new friend.
Daryl had a new sidekick and from his scowl Riley assumed it was under duress. The boy chattered on excitably, quite undeterred by the sheer underwhelming nature of each response. His eyes lit up every time he glanced at Daryl, as if he was in the presence of a rock star rather than disgruntled high-school drop out. Then Daryl turned to his new "friend" and handed him two bucks, "You know the corner store at the far end of town, not the near one, the one with the flickering coke sign?" The kid nodded, eyes wide like Santa had finally called to his house. "Go there and buy me one of their chocolate chip cookies. It has to come from that store, k?" The kid was a disappearing speck before Daryl had finished his eye roll and pulled out a cigarette.
Oh hey! You’re back again! I’m so glad you came m’dear. So happy to see you. You know, I was a little worried I came on a bit strong yesterday, but I feel a lot of passion for this project of mine. But enough about me. How are you? Did you sleep well? Did you eat a good breakfast? I was a bit naughty when it came to breakfast. I guess I should have had muesli from the tub I made for the kids but instead I sneaked a cinnamon bun from the freezer, forty five seconds in the microwave and it’s as good as when it came out of the oven yesterday. I’m feeling a calling for a second, but hey, who’s counting?! Not you, I can tell that from your face. Oh, sorry, you don’t know why you came back and you’re wondering if you should leave? No, no, please stay. Like I said, I’m so glad you came back in your jeans...your sari...your pyjamas...your underpants? No, don’t tell me about those, I’ll just imagine you’re dressed until you are.. Well today we’re going for a walk in the Canadian countryside and you don’t even have to hop on a plane to get here, I’ve been practising descriptions for a while now, so read along and you and me will be standing on the same gravelly track just wide enough for one car, one tractor, looking out at the view while we talk. We can even stay in our own time zones.
Did I tell you about the time I met Marsha? She ran after me and tackled me for stealing her bike. We went crashing to the ground, almost got run down by a cement truck in its way to the new housing development. If I think about it I can still smell the cloud of concrete gas and the burning of the tires. She had me pinned like one of her ward patients. In my defence, it looked just like my bike, same brand, but mine had a bell on the handlebars. That was before we had kids, back went we were young and good looking. Well, she is still good looking; but that’s brown skin for you, it ages way better than white. I have skin envy, boob envy too, but that’s the lot of small chested women I guess. We’re all supposed to be double D with the same waists we had at sixteen. No wonder people go under the knife, it’s a kind of mental torture really. Keep telling people they need to meet impossible beauty standards to be loved, to keep their partners, and they’re willing to risk their lives to achieve it.
Found in Are you awake yet? - first draft, authored by .
You can’t really help a lot, even when you do look solid like that. Thanks for that, it’s kinda creepy when I can see through you. Did you sleep well? Have breakfast already? We can’t go walking like we planned, or rather, I don’t want to. Let’s go when the weather cooperates, k? Why don’t you tell me something about yourself, I’d love to know you a bit better. Hmmm. Silent type, eh? Well, tell me one of your fears, you can’t expect me to let you into my head without giving anything away. Plus, it will make us feel way more connected, you might even like telling me something. Hang, on, don’t worry. I’m getting a strong feeling right now...
Found in Are you awake yet? - first draft, authored by .
"You hide a lot, don't you?"
Meg almost swallowed her gum, turning to take in the expression on her new friend's face. Her gaze was steady, eyes wide like an innocent child, Meg released a short sharp breath. This wasn't even fourth date material and this new girl wanted to play see-through-skin. "How do you mean?"
The girl paused before answering, her tone dropping to a softer octave. "Everything you say is a mask, but each thing gives a clue to the real you, the one hiding behind the shy smile and untied hair. You could just cut it out and let me in you know, let me into that fragile head of yours." This time Meg took a physical step backward. The girl just watched, eyes still like headlights on full beam, expression serene...