Outside the Box
Karina
I wouldn’t have recognized love even if it had sauntered up to me bearing a bouquet of invisible flowers, if it had tripped over an imaginary banana peel, if it had adjusted his unseen bowtie. I wouldn’t have recognized love if he was looking at me straight in the eye.
Love was an utter mess. His body had abruptly dropped so close to the ground in front of me that it almost appeared as if he had collapsed. His arms began tapping on imaginary walls surrounding him, like a glass box had just materialized on the cobblestone streets of downtown Boston. His hair, a tangled mess of loose brown curls, enveloped his white, powdered face. Love was a mime.
The most you can do when you are approached by a street performer is offer a cheeky grin, maybe even a couple of dollars. Then quickly abscond from the scene, because they are almost entitled to embarrassing you in front of their massive crowds. I dig inside my bag for the obligatory dollar when the man waves his arms in front of his face, shaking away my money. On the ground, he crosses his legs and cocks his head. Extending a hand, he grins and says, “Aiden.”
“Mimes don’t talk,” I fold my arms.
“Every now and then, our vocal cords spring back to life, for the right person of course,” the man quips. I loathe pick-up lines. I raise my eyebrow and turn on my heel. Gross.

Aiden


I really am living the life. I can go anywhere I please, be anybody I want. If street performing was a chick, I’d be all over her. Does that even make sense? Ha. It’s just the beauty of it all, no one cares who or what you feel like being that day. They’re just there to see a good show. It’s almost like going to the movies; an escape. Correction, even better than the movies. Why? My shows are always free. I mean, of course, if I’ve managed to entertain you adequately, tips are always nice. But I don’t do it for the money. Street performing is my passion. My father always taught me that you have to love what you do and not do it for the money. Or fame. Or the girls…
So why was I even trying to get this girl? She’s remarkably beautiful, hell, but she almost looks bored. She’s standing at the edge of the crowd too, propped against this tree. That’s when you know someone’s simply there just trying to pass the time. But before I realize, I’m sitting on the ground in front of her and she is walking away.
I turn back to my audience and bow. “That, my friends,” I chuckled, “was my crowning moment as King of the Doofuses.” Nervous laughter peels throughout the throng and a middle-aged woman pats my back.
“There will always be girls, lad!” she calls after me as I prance back to the center.

Karina

“Will that be all, ma’am?” the waiter asks, “We need to close up soon.” Do I really appear to be that lonely?

There is no way I’m leaving the haven of this restaurant. “Uh, I have someone joining me in a few minutes,” I lie, picking my pencil back up.

June 29
Serendipity & Summer Storms
Lola’s
A gem hidden among bri gems cks
Serendipity.
The act of finding something unexpected.
Finding gems among bricks.
Summer storms.
Sticky air and sticky limbs
Finding haven to escape hearts of summer storms
Finding gems among bri gems cks.

It’s pouring immensely outside, one of those spontaneous summer storms that only last briefly but if you get caught in the heart of one, you’re doomed. It was serendipity that I happened to run into this rare beauty of a bakery but it was sheer bad luck that it’s storming like mad. Speaking of serendipity, I had somewhat of a strange morning. There was this man, this mime, who

The door slams open and with it a gust of wet air. The waiter animatedly springs from behind the counter and walks toward the man at the door shaking off his umbrella.

“We’re closing, sir,” the waiter waves his arms in front of his chest.

“C’mon, man, it’s pouring outside,” the man at the door pleads, “Plus, looks like you need business.”

“Sir, because we’re closing. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience but we’re clo--”

“I’m with her,” the man looks in my direction. Before I, or the waiter, can utter a word, he plops in the seat in front of me. “What will we be having today, babe?” He peers at my face. His eyes are breathtaking.

“Uh…” I murmur, raising my eyebrow.

“Wait, one more thing. I brought you these,” he pulls his fist, which appears to be holding something, from behind his back. Flowers, maybe? He places his “bouquet” in front of my coffee. The waiter shoots me an almost apologetic look and ducks behind the register once more. The man picks up my journal.


“Excuse me, do I know you?” I chide, reaching back for my book. He holds it to his side at arm’s-length. He was the epitome of All-American. Tan skin, the slightest dimples right above his chin, and the biggest, brown eyes I had ever seen on a person.


“Aha!” He exclaims, putting his finger on the last sentence I wrote.
“What? Are you kidding me? I want my journal back, it’s private!” I reach forward taking the journal back. I felt heat rising in my cheeks. I don’t even want to know how flushed my face looked.
“You do know me, you totally know me! You’re probably inseanely in love with me or something” He laughs, a curl skimming right above his eyebrow.
“Again, excuse me? Who the f*** do you think you are?” He might possess the most attractive face I’ve seen all day, but that doesn’t constitute his ego.
“Calm down, watch your language,” he laughs. He places a hand in front of his face, and the other above his head, “Ahh, you really don’t recognize me, huh? You know, Aiden?” He slides forward, his face two inches from mine.


“No way…” my eyes widen, “Well aren’t you a pretentious stalker.”


He leans back and remarks, “Damn, your vocabulary is really on point. But let’s start over. You never told me your name.”


This guy is persistent. Perhaps if I continue to blatantly ignore him, he’ll have the courtesy to leave. At that moment, the last of the storm dissipates and a piercing ray of moonlight hovers over him like a halo. Goddamn, he’s gorgeous.

“Well mystery girl, the storm has passed, and so has he,” he points at the waiter, sleeping on top of the register. It’s difficult not to laugh. Aiden continues, “It’s been a long night, let’s go for a walk. What do you say?”

Aiden



It takes me three seconds to realize mystery girl was the definition of awkward. If you look up “awkward” in the dictionary, there’d be a picture of her. But she’d also be under ‘beautiful,’ ‘cute,’ ‘adorable’...
“So why are you a street performer? Just tell me straight up. None of your silly funny business,” she asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“You really don’t like me, huh?” I sigh.
She looks at me. There’s an eyelash on her cheek. “It’s not like that. I’m just a firm follower no-bullshit. So tell me, why are you a mime?” She smiles.
“Why don’t you tell me about--”
“Aiden.” She raises her eyebrow.

I shrug. “I like making people smile. I mean, unlike some people, I have this thing called a heart,” I laugh. She nudges me with her elbow and laughs, throwing her head back. Her hair falls right above her waist. She’s beautiful.
At that moment, a small boy runs up to me and gets a hold of my leg. A stout woman walks briskly right behind him and exclaims, “I’m sorry! He must’ve recognized you from the show earlier!”

“It’s no problem, ma’am, I love all my fans,” I joke. I pretend to pull a balloon out of my pocket and blow it up. Then, I tie a string around where its air hole would be and hand it to the boy.
“Balloon! Balloon!” he cries. He jumps around and runs away from his mother who takes off after him.
“That was really nice of you,” mystery girl remarks. It’s too dark to see her face clearly, but there’s a hint of a smile in her voice.
“Nicest thing you’ve said all night,” I shake my head, smiling. “So, you think you can make it to my next show? It’ll be tomorrow morning in the plaza at eleven.”
“Aren’t you sick of me by now?” she jokes. “I’ll see.” Mystery girl turns to walk away, but for a second she faces me. “It’s Karina, by the way.”

Karina
June 29 continued
...this man, this mime, hit on me. During his show.
Ironically enough, I happen to be watching him perform right now. He really is something different. I don’t want to say I’ve fallen in love with him or something...but I’m not quite sure. He’s persistent and he knows what he wants. The question is...what do I want?

Mime

For one with mouth sealed shut,

you have told me more about yourself than words ever will.

Silence.

Silence, hollowed into your chest

Silence, hidden into your smile

Silence, laced into awestruck faces.

It is all you need to tell me you’re different.



The next thing I know, Aiden is skipping over to the bench I’m sitting on.
“Put away your journal and come join me before the kids see that I can talk,” he says, grinning.
I lean forward and laugh, “No Aiden, do you really think I’m gonna do that?”
“C’mon Karina, do it for the children!”
“The children are here to see you, not me!” The kids are looking at us eagerly. Their faces hungering for Aiden’s performance. I see a little boy getting restless, sucking on his thumb. I see a little girl fiddling with the hem of her dress. I envision that these kids will throw fits if Aiden doesn’t start soon.

“Suit yourself,” Aiden responds. He skips over to his partner, the one who announces the different acts, and whispers in his ear.
The burly man looks at Aiden intently and seems to be asking him questions. What are they doing? After a few minutes, he shrugs his shoulders and pats Aiden on the back. He turns to the audience and says, “Well my lovely ladies and gentlemen, how do you feel about a slight change of plans?” He looks in my direction, “Please welcome Karina the incredibly talented, incredibly beautiful performer!”
Aiden faces me, extending a hand. He could not be serious. I shake my head. The audience begins to chant my name. The children up front have begun clapping, egging me on to put on a show. I truly plan on killing him later. I place my journal down on the bench and take his hand.
I have never been more nervous but love blows me a kiss. There are giggles rippling through the audience.
I smile at him and take a leap of faith. I recognize love sauntering up to me bearing a bouquet of invisible flowers. Tripping over an imaginary banana peel and adjusting his unseen bowtie. I recognize love looking at me straight in the eye. I take his hand and curtsy.