The Beginning of a Story

The townhouse around the corner from the road lined with fig trees had to it both an unusual odour and an eye-catching paint scheme. The road lined with fig trees boasted a library and a museum, a park and a concert hall, and a magnificent view of the cities centre. Perpendicular to this road ran a stretch of coffee shops and boutique clothing stores, a haven for those who felt themselves to be part of the counter-culture.

But the street the townhouse lay on had no landmarks, no special features. The parking was uneven due to the age of the road and the roots of old trees cracked the pavement. The street had a certain rustic charm to it, but the oddball nature of most of the townhouses was outdone by the eye catching house at number 32.

Joel Winton had lived at number 32 for almost a full year, but coming home every day he still cringed at this sight. The front wall was painted a light shade of purple, conflicting sharply with the green of the railings and the bright yellow door. It was at this sight that Joel was staring, lost in a polychrome daze he was hit by the front wheel of a bicycle. This was startling to say the least, though not as painful as you would imagine it to be. He turned quickly to catch the final seconds of a fall that was far from graceful, and watch a girl (most likely all of twenty years) groan and push herself up from the pavement.

Still somewhat startled he reached down to collect her hand and assist her to an upright position, now far more concerned with the wellbeing of this (admittedly fetching) stranger than the possible blindness of his homes past decorator, and did his best to sound calm and collected while he asked

“Are you okay?”

Awkwardly the girl finished standing up and flashed a smile that was halfway between warm and embarrassed before responding

“Uh… I think so, I’m so so sorry! Oh my god I’m so sorry look at your leg!”

Joel did as he was told, and noticed for the first time a large gash in the side of his leg. This must have been caused when the front chain of her bike took its sudden turn into the ground but the shock of the incident had shielded him. Small droplets of red fell to the pavement as he once again collected himself and looked her in the eye.

“Oh it’s okay, this is my house I’ve got some stuff inside I can put on that” He managed a smile, “Are you all in one piece? You seem a bit shaken would you like to come inside for some tea?”

She nodded yes and grabbed the handlebars of her upturned vehicle from the footpath, before following him inside

“Interesting paint scheme you have here”

“Oh, yeah I guess it is I never really noticed”.

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