My name is Michelle, and this is the story of how you die

short story. I'm including a trigger warning. Read at your own risk

I don't have as much time as either of us would like to explain this to you. I had no idea when we met that you would play such a critical role in the start of my story. Or that I would play such a major role in the end of yours. We met like millions of people do daily. On the street. Outside that coffee shop you go to even though you hate it. Or was it by that little local fruit stand? I suppose it doesn't matter now that you're gone and all. But it was a day like any other. The sun was shining...or wait. Maybe it was overcast. I'm getting away from myself.
I know you bumped into me. Even though you claim it was the other way around. I know I started the small talk, because that's just what I do. And I know that from the first time we said hello, there would be just 23 hours and 19 minutes until you died.
That's it. That was all that was left of your precious time clock. Did you know when you bumped into me that that was all the time that was left? Had you been thinking about the ending of the world and some vindictive karma bitch had decided to hit you with the ultimate proverbial punch line? I can wonder these things for you now. I wonder if you would have done me the same courtesy.

I feel like I had seen you before. But maybe not. Maybe my brain is playing tricks on me to give me some sort of deeper connection to you, so this whole situation isn't as strange and abnormal. I don't need to know you better but if I was anyone else, anyone more normal...more typical, they probably wouldn't give you a second thought. Just another stranger on the street.

I'm not sure what drew me to you. Your eyes...they seemed to dark for their color, as if a storm was brewing just behind them. A storm I couldn't see but for some reason desperately wanted to. Your brow was furrowed. That just seemed out of place. Even though I had never seen your face before I felt as if it should be filled with laugh lines and creases that showed how often you smiled.

My voice was strong, it always is when I introduce myself to a stranger, "hey there. Mind if I sit with you?"

Pulling off your head phones seemed to break you free of some intense daze. "Mmhmm" moving some notebooks you opened up the spot in front of the second chair at the table. Momentarily you let a smile cross your face as you gestured for me to take it.

"Nice day out" not my best small talk, but you didn't seem to want to chat. It was more because of what is seen as social acceptable that you had let me sit with you.

A curt nod. Well aren't you just a ray of sunshine. I don't know what I was expecting. When you bumped into me in line (yes you did) you didn't say sorry you just looked down and refused to meet my eyes. I hadn't been upset, I thought I'd be able to strike up a conversation with you from it. But you seemed so embarrassed, as if you wanted to disappear so I didn't say anything.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I was trying desperately to get you to talk. I don't know why. But I needed you to talk. I saw you were reading some advanced looking thick book. Are you in school? There's a university nearby. That would fit. Your sweater was a little baggy, seemed comfortable but unnecessary in the mild spring heat.

I didn't see much writing on your cup so you must have gotten a no nonsense drink unlike my decadent drink that was a dessert in a cup.

Hmmmm. I opened my own book. I was rereading the hobbit for the umpteenth time. The binding was creased and cracked, beginning to fall apart. I see you glance at the cover, I swear I saw a smile play at your lips. Possible approval over my book choice? Or silent mocking at reading a fantasy novel.

Your headphones seemed glued to your ears. Clearly a reoccurring placement for them. I wonder if maybe it's me. Maybe you just don't like talking to strangers. It's my favorite pastime, but people are normally more receptive.

You pull out a new notebook from your slightly tattered bag. I see an attached red water bottle covered in stickers from some local hiking places. Is red your favorite color? You like to hike? Maybe just sit in nature? I see a thick scar on your arm. The sweater fell down to quickly for me to get a good look, was that a tree climbing accident? Did it happen when you were a child or just a few years ago.

The cover of your notebook has been ripped off and replaced with some hand sketched drawings. They're pretty good. Are you an artist? Did someone do it for you? I know that symbols. It's deadmau5. Do you like his work, or did you just think it was a unique looking Mickey Mouse.

I want to ask you these questions. I don't know why. We aren't friends. We haven't even made it through hello. You seem distressed about something but I bite my tongue and keep the questions inside.

Glancing up you see me looking at you. Fear flashes across your face before you mask it with a slight upturn of your mouth. I think it was your attempt at a smile.

"Sorry," you can speak! Pulling off your headphones you gesture in front of you. "Lots of work I have to get through before the weekend."

"Oh no, that's okay." A genuine laugh passes out of my mouth. "I understand. It can get hectic pretty quickly." Nodding to my words I'm pretty sure I see you bite the inside of your cheek. It's okay, I can keep this going. "I'm Michelle by the way." Sticking out my hand I wait for you to hesitantly take it.

You do, but don't tell me your name in return. That's okay. I nod to your slightly awkward smile and lift up my book again for you to see it. "I'll just be reading, you won't know I'm here." Something flashes behind your eyes. A flicker of happiness and agreement maybe.

"That's one of my favorites." Your words surprise me.

"Mine too." Smiling I watch as you duck your head back down and put your headphones on and continue working.

A few hours pass and you seem to be getting more lost in your work. We chat a couple more times. But honestly nothing of value. One quick conversation about time. Do I know where the bathroom is. It's getting a little late. But each time you open your mouth a little more of you seeps out.

Now I know that your voice Is low and methodical. You have to work to keep it that quiet don't you?

Now I know that even though you have a watch on and your smart phone next to you, you like to have the time triple checked by a stranger.

Now I know that you're polite enough to laugh at a bad dad joke I make about how to find the restroom.

Now I know that you're willing to trust me, a stranger, to watch your stuff and you promise that you'll be right back.

You honestly acted like this could be an imposition on my part. As if my book was that important that making sure your items stayed put would be too difficult.

And now I know what your genuine smile looks like when you came back and thanked me. Asked me if I needed to go, you'd watch my stuff to return the favor...

A few more hours pass by and you start to pack up your stuff. You glance over at me and smile when you see me looking.

"I think that's all I can do for today." Standing up you stick your own hand out. "Nice meeting you. Have a good night." I'm a little startled by this. You seem to actually mean it.

Taking your hand I smile. "Thanks. You too. See you around some time?" The question hangs in the air. A cloud passes behind your eyes. You let it hang there and just nod once for yes and hurry off.

9 hours left.

The next day I keep replaying our whole interaction over in my mind. It makes me a smile a little that by the end you at least seemed comfortable with me.

But at the same time I'm still confused. I don't know why I feel drawn to you. I just do.

4 hours left.

As I go about my day, you're still pacing in the back of my mind. There was nothing jumping out about you that was special. You didn't wear expensive clothes. You didn't seem to have any charming quality. You seem skittish at conversation and to seriously enjoy your personal space.

2 hours left.

I needed a quiet place to read. I figured I'd head back to where we had sat yesterday. I didn't think you'd be there. But for some reason. Part of me was slightly hopeful...

1 hour left.

Traffic was terrible. Why was it so bad. It was later in the evening. This isn't a massive city. There would be no need for this.

19 minutes left.

There were cops everywhere. The whole area was swarming with people. They weren't letting anyone get to close. There was someone on top of the building. Had been for hours. They were trying to talk them down.

5 minutes left.

I've edged my way closer. Just on the fringe of the gathering. Looking around the crowd I find myself looking for your face. Are you here too. Blocked off from "your table" do you see what's happening. Maybe you'd be willing to talk about how crazy it all is.

1 minute left.

I finally look up. My eyes lock on the person who's gripping the building. I travel up their body and my eyes set on the face that's been haunting me all days. It's you. How can it be you. How can you be the one up there. You seemed fine. Even happy by the end of it. How can it be you who has caused this uproar when you didn't seem to want to draw attention to yourself at all.

20 seconds left.

Did you realize in that moment as you flew through the air, that had just etched into the lives of everyone watching. Forever they will remember you for your last act, I will remember you for two. Your family and friends, if you have any, will shatter like glass when you hit the ground.

10 seconds left.

I see in your eyes for the briefest of moments that you know this now, and possibly you regret this, but it is too late.

5

Your life wasn't worthless,

4

like you thought,

3

if that were true,

2

then why did a stranger cry for you?

1