Disclaimer: I own nothing Roswell.
Character Focus: ?/? (Unless you know me. Then you can probably guess.)
Spoilers: Well, maybe ... nah, not that. Or perhaps ... nope. Not that either. Huh.
Author's Note: Okay, I have a new philosophy. Maybe absurdity isn't the way to go; maybe it's abstract negativity. Meaning, what isn't there is just as important as what is. Yup; that's the ticket.
A stranger walked into the Crashdown today.
I was at the counter, taking a moment to sit, to have something to drink. Business was slow, and I would've found a reason to leave early but it seemed like too much trouble.
Besides, there was something seductive about just sitting there, a small oasis of quiet amidst the chaos and turbulence of a small but enthusiastic crowd. I could just lose myself in the noise, stop thinking and just feel.
And then something made me look up.
The sense that I wasn't alone, that some presence was intruding upon my solitude.
A quick glance about the restaurant suggested otherwise, but I concentrated on the sensation, as a rabbit will stand in the wind. Still, but ready to bolt at the slightest indication of danger.
Suddenly I looked up.
There, outside the door.
A shadow. Tall, murky through sunlit glass.
Standing there, looking in. Looking at me. I could feel the weight of his stare.
It compelled me.
I was overcome by a premonition of change.
As if in slow motion, he opened the door and stepped in. Immediately I became aware of how the very air around us changed. Around him, as around me, swirled something. I was caught up in fanciful notions of clouds and bubbles for a moment, before I dismissed them. Bubbles were too light, too easily pierced, too easily broken. Clouds were too fleeting, too insubstantial, too prone to weeping.
He was none of those things. I knew this with the same certainty that gravity would prevent me from rising into the sky, despite the feelings rushing through me, that lifted me, that uplifted me.
I knew this, knew him, and yet I looked upon his face and saw a stranger.
A stranger with eyes that told me everything and nothing.
He walked towards me and I concentrated on breathing, evenly and deeply.
We did not speak, and yet something was said, something conveyed.
He was both possibility and impossibility all at once.
He was Michael.
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