It's been almost a week since the awkward encounter with the mystery boy occurred yet I still have no idea who he is. I've heard rumours about him in the building, apparently he wasn't always as stuck up as he appeared it's because he was going through a bad break up, he found her in bed with another guy.
"He used to always come and visit my husband, our cat and I. He was such a lovely boy, always helping out with everyday chores we struggled with. He was always good to talk to, him and his friends." the old woman, who I learnt was called Marion, told me as we returned from shopping. "He would always listen to our stories and act interested, even if he had heard them all before." she shook her head as she began to open her door.
"What kind of stories?" I asked placing a weeks amount of groceries on the floor and giving her my full, undivided attention.
"Like the one where Gordon and I met. He was on leave from the war, a very handsome, mysterious, young man in his uniform, he was sat at a table in a cafe where I worked, he kept smiling over at me and eventually he came over and began to talk. He told me all about what it was like fighting in the trenches, how he feared he would never be returning home again, how he prayed each and every night that his family would still be alive and how he would pray he would be able to start his own family some day with someone who loved him just as much as he loved her. That night we sat in the square just talking, about anything and everything we could, he completely swept me off my feet when we began to dance in the moonlight. After that, we exchanged addresses and we wrote each other every day for two years. When he got home, he came to my house and ask for my hand and even now I love him more and more every day, even if he passed on. True love does exist because great things come to those who are patient enough to wait." and with that she was gone, whilst I stood there mesmerised by the greatest love story I had ever heard.
"It's a great story, isn't it?" I looked up whilst picking up my shopping. It was him. I couldn't think of any words to say, I had become mute. "I never miss Marion telling that story, it's my favourite." I stood there and smiled.
"It's probably the greatest love story I've ever heard."
"May I help you with your bags?" he asked gesturing towards them, I only allowed him to take four, allowing me to have one hand free.
"No problem." There was an awkward silence in the elevator as we went up, "I'm sorry about the other day by the way, I didn't mean to call you an Irish idiot."
"You don't have to apologise, it was my fault. If I was just watching where I was going then it wouldn't have happened." I looked down and giggled to myself, "If I wasn't such an Irish idiot then maybe I wouldn't have been trying to avoid you." The elevator opened on our floor and we went towards my apartment.
"I don't think you're an idiot. I just said that because I had a massive argument with my friend, he's from Ireland too. I don't think Irish people are idiots at all."
"Shall we just start over?" I hinted, wanting to get to know my neighbour better.
"Sure, I've been meaning to knock on you're door to talk to you but I just didn't know what to say. I'm Harry."
"Pretty name, look I've got to dash but if you're ever in need of something to do, you know where I live." then he went back into his apartment, and I finally knew the mystery man's name.