Chapter Two: When I Met You
1648 Words
The fog hadn’t fully lifted by mid-morning, and the air was still cool when Clara stepped outside to stretch her legs. She locked the shop door behind her, planning to take a short walk along the front porch before going back inside to finish a few sculptures.
She had barely taken three steps when she heard the rumble of an engine struggling on the road. It coughed, sputtered, and then died completely.
Clara paused, listening carefully.
A moment later, a man’s frustrated groan cut through the quiet.
“Seriously? Not now…”
The voice was unfamiliar, and it was definitely not from a local. Most townspeople had softer drawls or more relaxed tones. This one sounded sharper, maybe from the city.
Clara stood still, waiting. Then she heard the man slam a car door shut.
“Hello?” he called out hesitantly.
Clara tilted her head. He sounded like he wasn’t sure if anyone was around.
“I’m here,” she replied. “You’re near the crafts shop.”
There was a pause, followed by hurried footsteps. “Oh... Uh, hi. Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell across the whole road.”
“You didn’t,” she said, smiling a little. “Your car doesn’t sound too happy.”
He let out a short laugh. “Yeah. It gave up on me. Completely dead.”
Clara tapped her cane lightly. “If you walk a little closer, I can point you toward the mechanic.”
“Sure. I’m coming your way.”
She listened as his footsteps approached the porch steps. When he finally reached the bottom, he hesitated again.
“Um… can you see me from there?” he asked.
“No,” Clara said plainly. “I can’t see anything.”
“Oh.” The word slipped out of him quickly. “II didn’t realize.”
“It’s okay. I was born blind.”
He cleared his throat, clearly unsure of what to say next. “Right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to... ”
“You don’t have to apologize. Everyone asks something awkward sooner or later.”
That made him chuckle nervously. “Fair enough. Anyway… I’m Ethan.”
“Clara,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Clara.” He shifted, gravel crunching beneath his shoes. “So, uh… the mechanic?”
“Right,” she said, turning slightly to face the road. “Keep walking down the street, maybe five minutes. You’ll pass a small bakery. The mechanic is right next to it. There’s a sign that says ‘Ridge Auto Repair.’”
“Got it. Five minutes, bakery, then the shop.” He paused. “Can I… help you with anything? You don’t need to walk me there or anything, do you?”
Clara shook her head. “I know the way well enough. You’ll be fine.”
“Alright. Thanks for the directions.”
His footsteps began to move away, then suddenly stopped.
“Wait,” he said, turning back. “Before I go... This wonderful place… Is this yours?”
“The shop? Yes. ” Clara said.
“I saw the displays through the window earlier,” he said. “The sculptures. They’re incredible.”
She blinked, surprised. “You were looking in the window?”
“Uh… yeah. I thought it was open. Sorry if that’s weird.”
“It’s fine,” she said, amused. “And thank you. I’m glad you liked them.”
There was a small hesitation before he spoke again. “I’ll come back later. I want to properly check the place out.”
“Well, I’ll just be here.”
He took a breath, then said softly, “See you later, Clara.”
She listened to him walk away until the sound faded into the fog...
Clara returned to her workstation in the shop. She had only worked for about half an hour when she heard footsteps again... It was fast, and quite familiar to her already.
The, she heard the door swung open.
Clara recognized the footsteps immediately.
“Hey,” Ethan said, sounding slightly breathless. “I’m back.”
"Hello again... Is your car fixed already?" Clara asked in return.
“Uh… about that,” Ethan said awkwardly. “Mechanic said it’ll take a few hours. Figured I’d walk around town, and just wanted to look at the pottery.”
Clara tried not to smile at how unsure he sounded.
Clara gestured toward the shelves. “Feel free.”
Ethan started looking around, then stopped in front of one of the display tables. Clara could hear the shelves creak lightly as he picked up a piece.
“This one’s yours?” he asked.
“All of them are.”
He whistled under his breath. “The detail is amazing.”
Clara wiped clay from her fingers. “I make them by touch. It’s easier than you think.”
“No,” he insisted. “It’s impressive. Seriously.”
“Thank you.”
He moved to another piece, gently running his fingers along its curve. “How do you… see the shapes in your mind?”
“I don’t see them,” she said simply. “I feel what works.”
“That’s kinda cool,” he said. “Different from anything I’ve seen before.”
"You're making me blush with your Neverending compliments, Ethan." Clara responded, in an amused tone.
“Um… I noticed some of your shelves are a little loose.” He tapped one of the wooden boards. “Want me to tighten them? I’m decent with tools.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Clara said.
“I know. But I want to. You helped me earlier. And I’m bored while waiting for the car.”
Clara smiled. “If you really don’t mind.”
“I don’t.” He sounded almost eager. “Where are the tools?”
“Under the counter,” Clara said.
He got to work quickly. Clara listened to the sounds, starting from the scraping of a screwdriver, the tightening of screws, the shifting of shelves.
After a few minutes, Ethan asked, “Hey, Clara?”
“Mm?”
“What exactly were you shaping earlier? The clay you had on your lap?”
Clara touched the unfinished piece. “I’m not sure yet.”
“You sculpt without knowing what you’re making?” he asked, sounding genuinely fascinated.
“Yes,” she said. “I let it come naturally.”
“That’s… quite amazing. "
Clara smiled, while secretly touched by Ethan's compliments.
When Ethan finished fixing the shelves, he dusted his hands. “There. Should be sturdier now.”
“Thank you,” Clara said. “That was kind.”
He hesitated. “Can I… watch you sculpt? Or is that weird?”
Clara shook her head. “Not weird.”
She lifted the clay again. He sat on the floor nearby, close enough that she could tell exactly where he was.
She started smoothing the clay with her thumbs.
Ethan watched in silence for a moment before speaking.
“Do you ever wish you could see what you’re making?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “Mostly when people say it looks beautiful. I can’t really imagine what that means.”
He shifted again. “I wish I could explain it without sounding poetic or something.”
“You can try.”
“Okay…” He took a breath. “Your sculptures, they feel alive. Like they’re not just objects. They look like they have warmth. If that makes sense.”
She paused her sculpting. “…Thank you. That’s the nicest explanation I’ve heard.”
He chuckled softly. “I wasn’t trying to be nice. Just honest.”
Clara ran her fingers over the clay again. It felt different now, as if the warmth of the conversation had changed its shape.
Ethan cleared his throat. “So… what’s living here like? Blue Ridge.”
“Quiet,” Clara said. “Predictable. Safe.”
“You like that?”
“Yes,” she said. “Do you?”
“I’m used to noise,” he admitted. “I live in Chicago. Everything moves fast there.”
“That sounds stressful.”
He laughed. “Yeah. A lot of the time, it is.”
“Then maybe you needed the quiet,” she said.
“Maybe I did,” he murmured.
A few hours passed like that with Ethan asking questions, Clara answering while she sculpted. The conversations were simple, but something about the way he talked made her feel at ease, like she didn’t have to be cautious with her words.
Eventually, a car horn honked outside.
“That’s my ride,” Ethan said. “Mechanic must be done with the car.”
Clara set the sculpture aside. “Thank you for helping today.”
“No problem.” He hesitated again. “Can I… come back tomorrow? If that’s okay.”
“Why?”
He laughed awkwardly. “Because you’re interesting. And I like being here.”
No one in town ever said things like that so bluntly.
Clara felt her cheeks warm. “If you want to, yes. You can come by.”
“Good.” She heard him take a step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“See you,” she said.
As he headed for the door, he added, “And Clara?”
“Yes?”
“You have a really nice smile.”
She didn’t have a response ready, so she just stayed silent.
The door closed behind him, and she listened until his footsteps faded.
When she finally exhaled, she realized her hands were trembling over the clay—not from cold, but from something she wasn’t ready to name.
But whatever it was…
It felt new.
And she didn’t mind it at all.
- Writer
