#i've dusted off my old pens in the last couple of months and it feels good

[menciemeer]

I end up talking about calligraphy a reasonable amount on here and lately it's been bugging me that I haven't shared my work before. I also practice! To absolutely nobody's surprise, I have lately been practicing with Hannibal quotes.

[halfway-happyyy]

a concept: There are rare moments in life when we are afforded the opportunity to pick up and vanish at a moments notice. Obviously it is much harder to do when miniscule, honey-sticky hands grab needlessly at the hem of your shirt, or when you answer to a man behind the comfort of an oak desk and towering stacks of paper. It is most definitely harder to do when there is a constant chatter of chaos floating through the confines of your mind.

So when you found out you had a whole two weeks to do what you pleased- you made the decision to embark on a one-person road trip through 'wine country' Washington. Friends had told you to be weary of rogue tumbleweeds on your drive in- and you had been hard pressed to believe them. But of course, and to your immediate amusement, an hour away from your destination and in a valley of luscious, rolling hills, a mass of sticks, twigs and dead grass rolled lackadaisically across the road in front of your car.

Settling in to your accommodations had been an easy task; you were to be spending the next week in the comfort of a lovely reconverted barn. You had no tentative plans, except to explore the cozy little town you that were about to call home for the next little while, and to drink copious amounts of wine. The locals were lovely to you in every way imaginable and were pleased to dole out delicious local food spots and bars at your behest. ("You just have to check out the restaraunt in the centex gas station- best brisket sandwhich you might ever have.") On the last full day before you were scheduled to make your departure, (a four hour drive over to Seattle was the next adventure on your list) you decided to make a day of visiting wineries. Winery number two had been stumbled upon by accident; you had taken a wrong turn down a quiet side street and was pleasantly surprised to find that, unlike the others you had passed by, this one only had one or two other people inside. Ducking in from under the beating June sun, you found yourself an empty seat at the bar and scanned the wine menu atop the counter. You were patient while your bartender talked at length about her and her wife's new venture in pig farming, to a man seated at the end of the concrete counter. Wedged in his grasp was a near-empty glass of ruby red wine. It struck you that he seemed somewhat out of place in this atmosphere; with his short, well-kept blonde hair, the utterly expensive looking watch he would clock every now and then, his height...

"Can I get you anything?" Your bartender had noiselessly made her way over to where you were, startling you from your reverie.

Peering down at the list again, you quirked your eyebrow in question. "How is the vino moscato?"

She smiled knowingly. "On a day like today? There isn't anything better on that list. Can I get you a glass?"

"Please," You smiled back.

You sat in comfortable silence as she poured you a glass of the crisp, white liquid. It felt incredibly good to be somewhere without a time constraint; to enjoy the indie music emanating from the building, to feel the late June breeze wash over your skin like warm water. You savoured the taste of the cool liquid against your tongue; reveled in the slight tingle of the bubbles as they flowed freely down your throat.

"Is that one any good?"

You turned to the man a few seats away from you, observed the sunglasses perched atop his head, the slight golden colour of his skin. You shrugged your shoulders and gestured to his empty glass of red wine. "That depends. Do you like white wines?"

He smiled and you noticed immediately how the creases next to his ocean-blue orbs deepened when he did so. "I enjoy wine in general. No real preference wins over another."

You lifted your glass in greeting. "Well then yes, I think you would enjoy this."

The bartender, who had been privy to the entire conversation grinned and reached for a fresh glass. "Another moscato coming right up."

Without warning, the stranger moved seats from the end of the bar to a few metal stools away from you. Clad in an impossibly soft looking blue t shirt and worn denim jeans, you were keenly aware of just how attractive he happened to be. He took a tentative sip from the glass in his hand, let his eyes fall shut, and smiled. "An excellent choice indeed. I'm Alex, by the way,"

You gave him your name as well, and smiled as he repeated it with an accent that you could not quite place, immediately making it more exotic sounding than it ever deserved to be. Setting his glass back against the countertop, he turned to you. "So do you frequent this winery often?"

You stifled a giggle at the line he chose to use. "No, actually. Not at all. Just passing through," You took a sip from your own glass. "Do you?"

He shook his head. "I'm based out of Seattle for the next few months. Just drove down here for the weekend under the guise of good wine and even better breakfast."

Ever intrigued by the thought of a delicious breakfast, you were about to ask him to elaborate when his phone rang. He answered in a language that was entirely foreign to you- but the few pieces you could discern were almost certainly in Swedish. You sipped at the rest of your wine and ordered another glass as he said a last word and hung up the phone. "Brothers, hey?" He let out a breathless chuckle.

An hour and a half had passed since you had stumbled into this minimalist oasis, and when he stood up to pay his bill and bid you goodbye, you found yourself inexplicably wishing that you had more time to converse with him. "Thanks again for the wine suggestion... here's hoping I can find it again in Seattle?"

"Oh, you will." The bartender chimed in.

He threw another beam your way and stocked out of the building into the bright, inviting sunlight. It was quiet for a few moments while you mulled over where you would wander off to next, not a single drop left in your empty glass.

Just as you were about to get up and leave, Alex rounded the corner and faltered just inside the doorway of the winery. "This is going to sound crazy, and please don't feel like you need to say yes... but how would you feel about exploring this place together today?" He clocked the watch on the underside of his wrist. "I'm not due back in Seattle until 5 o'clock tomorrow night."

You glanced back at the bartender who simply giggled and shook her head, offering no insight whatsoever. "You know what- why not?" You passed over a fifty dollar bill and thanked her for her service.

It had been uncomfortable at first- this was something you had been warned about since you could talk. Do not talk to strangers, do not hang out with strangers. It had been different with this particular person though; conversation flowed freely between the pair of you, and he had not at any point, made you feel threatened or unsafe. You split the fares of the uber rides evenly between the both of you and enjoyed the ride through the scenic winding roads and hills. Alex had been born in Sweden, but was now mostly based out of New York and California and tried to get back to his homeland as often as possible, as all of his family was still there. He was an exceptionally good listener and it awed you how a few hours spent with him, felt like picking up where you left off with an old friend. Time passed slowly when you were together and when the visit to the last winery had come and gone, and the golden sun had begun to sink low over the lush, green hills, Alex accompanied you back to your barn. Your keys hung haphazardly from the crook of your pinkie finger and you cocked your head to the side, ignoring the fact that saying goodbye was the last thing you wanted to do. "You know, you mentioned something this afternoon about breakfast here..."

Alex's eyes glittered under the waning light and his lips quirked up into a small half-smile. "Yes, I've been told that there is a place just off main street here, that serves pancakes as big as my head. Would you care to join me tomorrow morning?"

Swallowing hard, you found yourself nodding your head. "Yeah, I think I'd like that."

True to his word, the pancakes you ordered around nine o'clock the next morning, were as big as your head, if not more so. They were also leaking with a viscous, tart strawberry rhubarb sauce and dusted with a thin layer of confectioners sugar. Alex settled into a mug of steaming black coffee and to eat, he ordered a bowl of fried aspargus tips and nutella pancakes. When he was finished, he settled back in his chair and cocked his head to the side, his expression unreadable. "Do you suppose we'll stumble into each other again?"

The question had caught you off guard and you shifted in your seat. "Maybe..." You shrugged your shoulders. "But maybe not."

He frowned.

"Isn't it nice though? To have two people meet through complete happenstance, share a couple of lovely hours together, and go on back the way they were?" You inquired, quietly.

"Happenstance," he repeated the word over, savoured the sound of it on his tongue, a small smile tugged at his lips.

"Oh, it's lovely," He agreed after a moment. "I just can't help but feel like i'm doing myself a disservice if I don't follow up with you in some way..."

You grinned and waved the waiter down for the bill. After paying and using the restroom in preparation for your looming roadtrip, you both headed out into the bright sunlight to your parked cars. Alex stood leant against his SUV, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his denim jeans. "I am really happy that we crossed paths," He offered quietly. "Just in case that big old sky falls on our heads."

An idea, bright and hopeful swam into vision at that moment. You reached into your bag and ripped off a piece of scrap paper from the journal in there. Alex already had a pen waiting for you, as if knowing exactly what you were about to do. You scribbled The Central Saloon - Seattle onto it, and handed the pen and paper back to him with a small smile.

He repeated the name of the bar to himself, his expression confused.

"If you can meet me there, tomorrow night- say maybe eight o'clock, perhaps our paths might cross again."

Alex rubbed the pad of his thumb over your handwritten script and slipped it into the pocket of his jeans with a finite nod. "Oh, I'll be there."

You allowed one last look at the man before you, and stepped into the front seat of your car, breathless and utterly hopeful.