Garbage bags

She sits on a pile of garbage bags, saying nothing, just grinning.

Whenever he walks through that alley he sees her there.

She never says anything; she just sits and grins at him, like she knows what he’s thinking, and knows what the whole world is thinking, and she doesn’t give a damn about it.

At first what freaked him out was the grime under her fingernails and the comfortable way she sat in midst of the garbage, careless of the smell; the way her hair was always just messed up enough to bother him, he who was such a clean-freak.

Now, what freaks him out the most are her eyes.  They’re bright green; greener than anything he’s ever seen, and in that dark alley it’s like they’re shining, grinning at him even when he’s not looking at her.

And he doesn’t know what to do. He just walks past and tries not to look at her.

 

He asks her who she is, once.

She grins at him, and just blinks. But then, just as he’s getting really scared and prepares to turn around and get the hell out of there, she tells him her name, in a creaking voice that reminds him of seagulls, though he doesn’t know why.

Her name is Juliet.

And when he looks back at her, after she’s spoken, her mouth is grinning again, and for a second he wonders if he’s just imagined it.

 

Sometimes they talk, when the sun is bright on summer days and she’s still sitting there, but he isn’t as scared as he was before.

He’s tempted to ask her to tell her story, and explain why she sits there in silence day after day. But he never does.

He’s scared, to tell the truth. He’s scared to know what could make a girl like her be so…inhuman. And when she looks at him, sometimes, just as he’ s dismissing these thoughts, he thinks he can hear her say “You know. You know what happened.”

She never says anything unless he asks her. But she sits there, all day, and somehow he has the impression that she sits there to wait for him to walk past. And he always does, really, even though there are other roads he could take.

He walks past the garbage bags for her.

 

Sometimes he imagines that she’s expecting him, and that her eyes light up just a little bit more when he passes. But he isn’t frightened by it, because she never moves, and she never says anything.

He suspects she’s scared, or maybe she just cares too much.

Maybe she knows that they’re not the same kind of specimen.

Maybe she realizes that he has a life and that she scares him.

Or maybe she just doesn’t  care.

 

He’s tried to sneak up on her, but she always notices. She turns her head towards him and it’s a graceful movement. She just stares at him and grins, like she always does, and he clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair, because he doesn’t know what to say.

But presently he realizes that when they’re together they don’t have to say anything.

And he’s fine with that.

He really is.

 

A few times he comes to sit beside her. Not on the garbage bags, of course, because he’s still a clean-freak, and he can’t stand the smell.

But he still sits on the ground, and joins her in the peaceful bubble she seems to have created for herself, sitting on her throne of garbage bags.

He forgets about everything, there. He feels at peace, and he feels good, though he can’t explain exactly why.

When it gets too late, he just gets up and goes, saying a dwindling “bye” as he walks away.

She nods, he thinks, but he never looks back to see if she does.

 

And it’s really strange, because he realizes that he cares for her, but he’s still scared of her and those bright green eyes that grin at him from the shadows, and that tell him that he Knows.

No, he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

But he still walks by, and sometimes their eyes meet.

And she just sits there, and she grins, saying nothing.

Author's Note

What do you think? It's definitely one of my stranger stories...