Sleepy Insomniac
Steely gray eyes fixed the slender figure with distaste.
Street lamps lifted dim lights into the darkness, sketching shadows onto the ground. The inky night sky hung heavily over the small neighbourhood as underneath, the crazed yet relaxed night life unfolded.
Insomniacs were plentiful during this time.
"Do you ever sleep?" he asked the stranger whom he barely knew.
"What makes you ask that question?" she said, tilting her head to one side in that infamous childish manner. In one hand she held a pen, in the other a notebook.
"I always see you here whenever I come at night. Whether it's raining or not, you're here, somewhere. And I always manage to find you." he replied.
She laughed. "Don't flatter yourself. There may come a day when...when you don't find me. The day I drift off into another world, wrinkled with age...or perhaps still young."
He smiled. "You're a journalist, aren't you?" he questioned. She nodded earnestly.
"The name's Nathan. And you?"
She paused, pushed into sleepy reverie. "Hermione," she replied at last, yawning, "Hermione Granger." She yawned again.
"You're that journalist for the Witch's Weekly who calls herself an insomniac?" he said, head tilted in a kind of steely scrutiny that didn't match his noncommittal tone of voice.
She grinned, nodding, and rubbed her eyes. "Well," he continued, "You're some sleepy insomniac, aren't you?"
She smiled. He took her hand in his, then they walked, slowly, down the dim-lit, noisy street. A warm breeze billowed in from the West as the dusty night sky cleared to reveal a brilliant full moon.
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Well, that was short, wasn't it? I'm getting fonder of writing short stories...
