The writer sits at his desk; laptop fully charged, pens and note paper to his right.
His fingers fly over the keyboard; words come freely. And the story of his first love finds it way from his mind onto the blank screen…
Ava was eighteen when they met at the opening of the new shopping precinct in the small country town where he’d grown up.
‘Welcome to Newmarket!’ he said. Jeremy was rostered to welcome shoppers for the first two hours of trading hours. He knew everyone that walked through the doors; many stopped to ask after his parents, or chat about the unexpected heat of the day.
Then, the young woman approached. Unknown to him. Her face symmetrical, perfect. Lips of ruby, cheeks of rose, and blonde hair that cascaded around her shoulders.
He repeated his banal greeting as she entered the front doors. She smiled shyly, but continued walking inside.
Jeremy stops typing. Is this boring? Too much detail, or too less? Should he include the strapless dress she wore, with the elasticated bodice that hugged her breasts in a way he envied. He shrugs; figures it’s better to words on the page now and he can delete sections later.
His fingers hover over the keyboard, while he waits for inspiration…
Once his shift at the front doors was over, he strode indoors. The gush of cool air brought a freshness to his plan. He was going to find her.
He ordered a coffee at Bean and Co, and as he waited for it to be made, he spied her close to the department store. He kept watch while the barista steamed and frothed the milk.
‘Thanks mate,’ he’d said with a grin.
‘Sure Jeremy, ya welcome anytime!’
Everybody knew him in this town. It was why he was so keen to move to the big smoke. Start out on his own, without his dad’s money and reputation to keep him afloat.
Jeremy made a beeline for Harris Vader, the low-cost chain store that stocked everything from baby needs to camping equipment. How was he going to find her.
Too easy. He narrowly avoided bumping into her while pretending to browse the fiction shelves.
‘Excuse me. I’m so sorry,’ he said.
‘My fault entirely.’ She had an upper-class British accent.
‘Jeremy Banks. Are you new to the township?’
‘Just moved here with my parents actually. Why do you ask?’
‘Small town. I know mostly everyone here.’ He grinned widely.
‘Ava Parkinson. My parents have recently bought the hotel here.’
At his desk, Jeremy yawns and stretches. He is boring himself. He wants to lionise Ava. His plan is for their brief love story to illuminate the world. Once published, he hopes that Ava—wherever she is—will find her way back to him.
It’s the book he’s always wanted to write. He never knew it would be this hard.