Jacob and Emma were always meant to meet. In every version of every world, their paths crossed at multiple points on multiple planes at multiple times. Which seemed appropriate as they were both fond of collecting multiples of many things. For Jacob it was hats and matchbooks and records, most of which had never been listened to. For Emma it was books and skeleton keys and teapots that she never actually used because tea is extremely overrated if you ask her, which no one ever did.
No matter how things were rearranged, how many natural disasters occurred, how many almost loves they found or lost, or even how many countries they were separated by, the two always seemed to find each other.
Young Jacob Meteor was, well, different to say the least. He was known to stare intensely at something behind you until you’d look to find nothing. And upon turning back could find an empty space that once held his form. The air around him was always filled with frenetic energy that seeped out of his frantic person. And he always seemed to know something you didn’t and was completely content to keep it that way. There was no air of frivolity or proudness about him. He was simple and humble and often overlooked. The smartest people usually are.
And Emma Everson, though brash and hilarious in her own mind, was often seen as a bit of a prudish recluse. The opinions of strangers are made up quickly and harshly and she never gave anyone reason to change them. For all her wishing, Emma was not the most social creature. She kept to herself and avoided conversations in which she would have to…. Well actually she just avoided conversations. Why bother with reality when you had the magic of words on a page? Books were her constant companions and the only opinions she cared about were the ones carefully written and held between tightly sewn pages.
Emma had never even met anyone in person who interested her in the slightest until the big bang that was her encounter with young Jacob Meteor. Each time they met, no matter the place, the time, the era, it always began with snow. And on this particular introduction, both had had quite the terrible night.
Jacob was just on his way home from a date that could not have gone more terribly had he planned it himself. The girl (who we’ll call Jessica) had less than no interest in Jacob and spent most of the night scouring the bar for someone more interesting to talk to. Eventually she found them, in the form of a giant oaf of a man whose name was Sven, because of course it was Sven. He walked over and introduced himself to the short-lived pair that was Jacob and Jessica but clearly he had eyes only for her. Though impressed with Sven’s guts to approach a woman who was clearly, though maybe not so clearly, on a date, Jacob bowed out, feigning a sudden illness. Jessica, despite her rather impressive, but frankly false show of worry for his well-being, did not mind in the slightest.
Now Emma, the poor thing, had just had an all-around terrible day. It started with an alarm clock that died in the night and therefore didn’t wake her up the next morning. This led to forgetting to pick up her boss’s coffee and getting stopped by a train on her drive to work and then showing up embarrassingly late to a meeting in which she was supposed to take notes. Then in the afternoon it was spilled coffee on her blouse, and a run in her stockings, and a leaky ink pen in her purple pants pocket. By noon she’d had enough. Even her hairband snapped around 5:00pm, leaving her unruly curls to blow out of control as she finally stepped out of the office from a late night of assisting. Because that’s what she did, she assisted.
She assisted with coffee and note taking and errands. She assisted in other people’s lives as hers passed her by. At least she had adventure waiting for her, she thought, as she patted the heavy book inside of her big heart-shaped tote. So preoccupied was she, with thoughts of her books, that she didn’t see Jacob until it was far too late.
He’d glanced up at the stars as she’d glanced down at her book and in one violent jolt, they were both brought quick to a holt.
There were icy patches of snow covering the side walk here and there and neither were paying any attention to the ground that they tread on.
“I’m so sorry,” he said as he grabbed her by the shoulders, just barely keeping her from toppling over.
“No, it was me. I’m sorry,” she said, not looking him in the eyes, because she had a bad habit of avoiding things that could see through her.
But in that moment Jacob knew one thing, he had to see her face, or surely the world would end. So he lifted her chin with a dark calloused hand, and lifted her gaze to meet his directly. Her eyes, they were brown, but the word brown didn’t fit. He’d soon think of them as gold and his new favorite color.
And so a thousand stories begin of love at first sight or attraction or sparks or whatever you call it. Because whatever it is, it ends all the same, with two people who find each other again and again.
Photo by ayla-es
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