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Random bits:
Do tell me if any of this is any good...
"You're writing backwards," Valorie commented, looking over his shoulder.
Amos paused, looking at the paper. Giving a sigh, he picked up a fresh paper and started over. "I do that a lot," he commented, as he began re-writing, this time in the proper direction. "I have a mild form of dislexia, if I'm not paying attention, I read and write backwards. It's amplified by the fact I'm left handed."
"It's like you're in a mirror," Valorie said in a soft voice.
Amos paused, turning to face her. "What did you say?"
"I--I--" Valorie stammed. Amos's face was strange, his eyes stareing deeply into hers. She swallowed. "I said it's like you're in a mirror," she repeated, shrinking back.
He turned away, looking out of the window, his fist clentched.
"I-- I'm sorry-- I didn't mean--" she began.
"No," he said softly. "It's okay." He turned back to face her. Shakeing his head, he sighed. "We are mirrors of each other, arn't we?" He took a step towards her. "We're the same hight, same build, our hair is even the same length, everything else is opposite." He continued slowly walking. "Where your hair is a dark black, mine is a pale grey, your eyes a deep green, mine are barely blue." He stopped, inches in front of her. "Your right hand, my left," he wispered, lifting his hand as if placing it on a pane of glass.
Valorie lifted her hand in the same mannor, their fingers-tips lightly touching.
"I've always felt like a relection," Amos said softly, "like I wasn't a compleate person. I've only known you a few days, yet I feel like you have always been with me."
"We're reflections of each other," Valorie smiled. "Neither one of us is the true person, neither one of us is the shadow." She closed her fingers over his hand. Leaning over, she kissed him gently.
"You're writing backwards," Valorie commented, looking over his shoulder.
Amos paused, looking at the paper. Giving a sigh, he picked up a fresh paper and started over. "I do that a lot," he commented, as he began re-writing, this time in the proper direction. "I have a mild form of dislexia, if I'm not paying attention, I read and write backwards. It's amplified by the fact I'm left handed."
"It's like you're in a mirror," Valorie said in a soft voice.
Amos paused, turning to face her. "What did you say?"
"I--I--" Valorie stammed. Amos's face was strange, his eyes stareing deeply into hers. She swallowed. "I said it's like you're in a mirror," she repeated, shrinking back.
He turned away, looking out of the window, his fist clentched.
"I-- I'm sorry-- I didn't mean--" she began.
"No," he said softly. "It's okay." He turned back to face her. Shakeing his head, he sighed. "We are mirrors of each other, arn't we?" He took a step towards her. "We're the same hight, same build, our hair is even the same length, everything else is opposite." He continued slowly walking. "Where your hair is a dark black, mine is a pale grey, your eyes a deep green, mine are barely blue." He stopped, inches in front of her. "Your right hand, my left," he wispered, lifting his hand as if placing it on a pane of glass.
Valorie lifted her hand in the same mannor, their fingers-tips lightly touching.
"I've always felt like a relection," Amos said softly, "like I wasn't a compleate person. I've only known you a few days, yet I feel like you have always been with me."
"We're reflections of each other," Valorie smiled. "Neither one of us is the true person, neither one of us is the shadow." She closed her fingers over his hand. Leaning over, she kissed him gently.