Character/Pairing: Alice, Alice/Jasper
Summary: She's waiting for someone.
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me.
Notes: Posting my finished fics before Breaking Dawn
There's something just so beautiful about that girl, I can't help noticing whenever she comes in. It's a very odd type of beauty, but it attracts more attention than just mine, regardless. She's short, slight, pale. Her features are sharp, her hair dark and cropped close. She reminds me of something otherworldly. A tiny woman; a pixie, just like the style of her hair.
There is something about her, though-- a feeling I can't place my finger on -- that scares me somehow. She's intimidating in spite of her appearance, and she makes me feel uneasy. Never in all my years at this diner -- and this is a restaurant that takes all kinds -- have I ever encountered someone so interesting.
Whenever she comes in, she sits in the same booth, tucked away in the furthest corner, alone. That table is in my section, and so the task of serving her falls to me. I think the other girls are secretly grateful. They must feel the uneasiness, too.
So that's how I know that whenever she comes in she sits facing the door, and only ever orders a cup of coffee that she never touches. That's how I know that every time she comes in she's reading the same book (though she has one eye trained on the door) and always wears the same dress, spotlessly clean and crisp.
The frequency of her visits has a certain intriguing irregularity. Without fail, whenever she's here, it rains. She arrives in the morning and stays all day, but not one of us dares to ask her to leave. It doesn't matter if she's loitering, or if we need to table. We let her be.
She seems to be in a continuously chipper mood, but whenever she leaves just before closing, it seems to fade. I hear her sigh as she snaps her paperback closed, and she looks wistful when she disappears through the door and into the night.
But she always comes back, always with the rain. I take sightings of her as practical reminders; not to water my plants today, to find my umbrella. I know when I see her that it will invariably rain, and I'm never, ever wrong.
She comes and goes like the weather for a little over a year, by my probably faulty calculations.
She's waiting for someone.
I can tell, even though we've only exchanged a few words, and the only thing I really know about her is her name, Alice. But it's obvious that she's waiting. And even though I barely know this young girl, even though she scares me, I desperately hope she finds him.
What I wouldn't give to know her whole story. It must be fascinating. But I can't bring myself to ask her.
And then one day, a boy just as cruelly, oddly beautiful as her walks through the door. I don't even have to see her face light up to know she's done waiting.
Finally, the booth opposite her is filled, and they stay there, talking in hushed tones, for hours. Their eyes are locked and there's an intensity radiating off the two of them that I can feel from across the room.
She leaves with him that night, and I know I'll never see either of them again.