Page 6 of A Breath of Life
“That’s what you think.” He squeezed my hand. Warmth filled my chest and bled through my veins. God, I loved him. I didn’t tell him nearly enough. Another barrier.
We continued down the street toward the Chinese restaurant, Echo sniffing everything, Tallus at my side where he belonged, our fingers weaved together.
I got lost again in our differences.
Diem, the penny-pincher. Tallus, the frivolous shopper.
My wardrobe, outside of gym clothes, consisted of plain shirts and rugged jeans. Tallus dressed for the runway.
I sweated my stress out at the fitness center in my spare time, and Tallus lazed on the couch watching reality TV, convinced exercise of any kind would surely put him in an early grave.
My personality veered toward reserved and quiet. Tallus was verbose, bright, and expressive. He adored being the center of attention.
When I got angry, I yelled and often needed to punch things. When Tallus got mad, he grew scrappy and sassy. He fought with words. I fought with fists but wouldneverlay an unwelcome hand on him. I’d rather die.
Yin and Yang.
Day and night.
Heaven and hell.
Black and white.
Oil and water.
We shouldn’t work, but somehow, we did. We balanced one another.
“This way.” I directed us down a quieter side street, a shortcut to the restaurant, and drew Echo closer to my side as a man approached from the opposite direction.
The way he was dressed caught my attention. The long coat in the mid-September heat aside, he wore some sort of fancy satin vest with shimmering buttons, a white dress shirt underneath, a puffy tie, pinstriped trousers, a shiny black cane, and a bloody top hat.
The man looked like he had fallen from another era.
He stopped before passing by, holding up a finger and addressing us with a theatrical British accent. “Excuse me, fine sirs. Might I trouble you for the time? I seem to have misplaced my pocket watch.”
When all I could do was stare, Tallus provided him with the answer.
“Ah, very good. Very good indeed. I shall carry on then. Ta.” And with a skip and hop and a tip of his hat, he veered around us and continued down the street, leaving a faint cloud of alcohol, cigar smoke, and much confusion in his wake.
The city was full of weirdos, but that was new.
Tallus craned his neck, peering over his shoulder and watching the gentleman’s retreat. With a quiet laugh, he leaned into me, whispering, “Did you see that guy?”
“Yeah. Costume party? Actor?”
“Maybe. Christ, he was wearing a full Edwardian wardrobe. Historically accurate, too. Well, mostly. Impressive, though.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“His clothing. Edwardian. It’s a time period, Guns.”
“And you know this how?”
“Give me some credit. I know fashion. I bet that outfit cost a pretty penny. You can’t walk into any old store and buy stuff like that anymore. The Fletcher vest alone would be easily a couple of hundred dollars. Did you see those buttons?”
“They were shiny.”
He chuckled. “Shiny? You’re so observant.”
