Knowing Slim

The scent of the street soaked in rain always reminded her of the day she met him. She was walking down the Liverpool Street with an aftertaste in her lips that reminded her of coffee and cinnamon, when she distinguished a blurry image in the middle of the fog.

Firstly, she assumed that it was simply a Londoner going to work; so she kept ambling. Nonetheless, after a couple times observing her surroundings, she noticed someone was following her steps rigorously.

Unluckily, the street wasn’t crowded at all. That fact was rare indeed. Everything around her seemed charged with a frigid, bitter and uncertain image. Covered by infinite shades of gray as if it were a decrepit, old movie.

All of a sudden, she started to hasten her step when a big, strong and leathery hand captured her elbow. It was such a tremendous feeling. Haltingly, she turned around with an alarmed expression and she recognized a towering figure that was fading due to the heavy mist. In just a second, he reached her side and he quickly became clear-cut.

— My name is Slim — he claimed, with a paltry voice — , did I scare you? My apologies. I just wanted to meet you in person.

She was astonished. Besides the fact that someone completely unfamiliar was following her, she was forced to face him and listen to his presentation, considering he was still grabbing her arm.

In that instant, he let go of her while he kept staring at those wide-opened eyes — that were trying to figure out a way to escape from that moment; from him, and from that disturbing and eerie winter fog.