Challenge Accepted

Write a fictional story… without guns, death, physical sex, the supernatural, historical figures, or alternate universes.

“My name’s Paul.” He to get that much through the lump in his throat.
“Stephanie.”
“Nice to meet you”, he said extending a hand shakily. Pretty woman or not, one must not be impolite he thought. A smile cracked across from him, although at this point she could have just been trying to be equally polite. Politeness was all it was, he fully knew her name from the nameplate on the end of her cubicle wall. Every day, if he could, he would make his way to the art department just to catch a glimpse of her. Not that he was stalking her. Not at all, never. It was just a reminder…that she was there…and that she was beautiful.

Her weight shifted onto her other leg, after all the conversation had been going on for some time. Fifty floors justified the useless balloon juice spread out there as if it was the way “normal” people spoke to each other, your usual faux pas about the weather and work. New scenarios spattered through his mind, but like the computers he’d been working on, processing power was too low. He was hung up on compatibility. The knickknacks on her desk, the busted black Jetta with all those bumper stickers, the music on her headphones when she walked past the IT department; she probably hung out with awesome artistic friends, made trips frequently to the city…an adventurous life…

“I like your shoes” she said. The confidence in her voice put him at unease. Paul quickly managed to notice that she was wearing the same Chuck Taylors. “How did I miss that?” he thought. Again, compatibility. Following an awkward and panicky laugh he blundered “Psh, yeah… I just…you know.” He broke eye contact as quickly as he could, looked at his shoes, remembered that was what the conversation was about and dashed his gaze upon the other side of the elevator. He saw in the reflection of the brass walls, that her reaction was the same as his. Compatibility…

The awkwardness could have only been broken by the buzz of the cell phone in her messenger bag. She quickly stabbed into the bag for it and pulled it out with a jingle of change. A small figurine of Japanese origin hung from the antenna. She scrolled through texts and let out a personal giggle. Devastating grief came over Paul and negativity reined. “It’s probably her boyfriend.” He unwisely leaned over and violated privacy protocols. He managed to catch a glimpse at the screen and felt a wave of relief suspended the grief. “Just a text from a girl friend” he assured himself. He stealthily shifted himself to avoid being caught.

Floors were flying by, he only had a few moments to make a move. “Kiss her? No. Bring something else to talk about? No time. Panic? Panic.” His mind franticly fumbled while his hands played with the keys in his pocket out of nervousness. “Listen, I…” ding went the elevator and a wave of sunlight poured in. Lobby. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder and made for the exit still scrolling through her phone. He dashed after her valiantly. “Want to grab lunch tomorrow?” He threw like a Hail Mary.

“Sure, but I usually bring my own lunch.”
“It will be on me” such confidence shooting through him, he felt strength like no other.
“Sure” she repeated with a smile “See you then.”

He sealed the contract with a wave and a suppressed grin. Gloom and uncertainty were problems for another. His life enlightened, despite the fact his internship ended that afternoon.


Little did he know she was a werewolf with an Uzi sent from the future to correct the mistakes of the past and… damn it. As an aside, I actually flipped a coin to decide if it was a happy or sad ending.