[Short Story] "Found"
A quick little piece I wrote back in January for the #12in12 Short Story Challenge.
Before we jump into the short, I feel like I should explain what the #12in12 Short Story Challenge is, briefly, just to make sure everyone is on the same page. I feel like it can be pretty readily guessed, but for the challenge, you are to write one short story each month, all year long. There is a prompt and a prescribed word count for each month, and you have the whole month from the prompt-posting to the posting-day to write and edit the short. Pretty straight forward, I think. With the word count, you can be slightly off, but I set a goal to be exactly on it, every month.
This short was written in January 2025 for the prompt: “found.”
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The train station buzzed with its usual weekday hustle: heels clicking on the platform, the distant hum of an approaching train, and the murmur of halfhearted small talk. Emma leaned against a cold metal pole, her fingers playing idly with the hem of her coat. She was early, per usual. Trains, like her life, were meant to be predictable, but often were not.
Toeing the edge of the raised bumps that warned of the edge of the platform with her maroon ankle bootie, Emma's gaze fell on a slightly larger, heart-shaped rock nestled in the gravel just beside the platform's drop-off. She crouched down to pick it up from its bed of stones, running her thumb across its smooth, almost perfectly symmetrical surface, as if nature had gone out of its way to carve this tiny gesture of affection for her.
As she stood again, movement and a flash of bright red caught her attention. She looked up, and her heart skipped a beat. A boy -- no, a handsome man in his mid-twenties -- stood there, hands buried deep in the pockets of his black hoodie, one tail of his red scarf loose and flapping in the wind. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead. He wasn't striking in the conventional sense, but there was something about the quiet confidence in the way he leaned against a pole opposite her, the slight, curious tilt of his head…
Their eyes met.
For a moment, time stilled. The bustling station faded into a blur of white noise as the space between them crackled with an unspoken connection. He smiled a subtle, almost shy curve of his lips, and Emma's cheeks flushed. She averted her eyes, the rock now a warm presence in her palm.
When she dared glance back, he was still watching her. But the shrill whistle of the arriving train broke her ability to hold his gaze longer. The doors of the train hissed open and he disappeared inside. Emma clutched the rock, seeking comfort, her chest tight with something she couldn't quite name.
***
That week, Emma couldn't stop thinking about the man from the station. Every time she boarded a train, her eyes darted to the opposite platform, hoping to catch another glimpse of him. But he was never there.
It was a sunny Saturday, and Emma laid her blanket across the browning grass in the park, her tattered, well-loved copy of a collection of short stories by Bradbury in hand. Despite being mid-October, and the crispness of the fall air surrounding her, the sun shone warm enough to be comfortable. The gentle rustle of what leaves were left created a soothing backdrop to her reading. She would usually be absorbed in her narrative, yet today, her thoughts wandered back to the train station again. Away from "The Long Rain," back to the man with the quiet smile.
"Excuse me?"
The voice startled her. She looked up, and there he was, just a few feet away. His hair was slightly disheveled, as if he'd been walking against the wind. Up close, she noticed the warm amber of his eyes and the faint freckles dotting his nose.
"Hi," he said, his smile as gentle as she remembered. "I hope I'm not interrupting."
Emma blinked, struggling to find her voice. "Oh, no. Not at all." She closed her book, knowing its pages so intimately, she didn't even bother to mark the page. "Can I help you?"
He laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "This might sound strange, but I think I saw you at the train station last week. You, uh, caught my eye."
Her cheeks burned. "Oh, yeah. I noticed you there, too."
He nodded, his expression thoughtful, eyes falling to the cover of her book. "I thought so."
"The Illustrated Man is one of my favorites," she said.
"I wouldn't have pegged you as a sci-fi reader."
Emma let out a nervous laugh. "It's not hardcore sci-fi, really. Just short stories by Bradbury." She held up the book to demonstrate. "I've read the whole collection at least a dozen times. I love how each story is like a little window into so many lives."
He stepped closer. "I prefer short stories. Sometimes they say more in a few pages than a novel can in hundreds."
"Exactly," she said softly. "It's like they capture a moment, you know?"
His gaze lifted to meet hers, warm and steady. "I get that. Moments are what really stick with you."
Emma nodded, her nerves slowly melting under his charm. "I'm Emma, by the way."
"Liam," he said, extending a hand. She shook it, his grip firm but gentle.
"So, do you come here often?" she asked, instantly cringing at how cliche she sounded.
Liam didn't seem to mind. "Sometimes. It's a nice, quiet place to think. I don't usually stop, but today I had to make an exception."
Emma's heart fluttered. "Well, I'm sure glad you did."
"Mind if I join you?" he asked, indicating the space on the blanket beside her.
"Not at all."
Liam took a seat and held out his open palm. "May I?" He nodded toward her book.
Emma hesitated, embarrassed by the state of the cover and the way the binding was coming loose from years of wear. But she acquiesced and handed him the book. He thumbed through the pages as if taking stock of each story before stopping and opening to one near the middle, one of Emma's favorites.
"Will you read with me?" he asked, laying on his stomach and setting the book down in a spot they would both be able to see. They read through the story, trading off pages and sharing dialogue, giving characters voices they kept forgetting between lines, before stopping and talking for hours, conversation flowing effortlessly between them. Emma couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so at ease with someone she'd just met. There was a kindness to Liam, a genuine curiosity that made her feel seen.
As the afternoon sun dipped lower, casting golden light across the park, Emma fidgetted. The book resting in her lap felt heavier now, its significance growing with every shared moment.
"Hey," she said, interrupting the thick, but comfortable, silence. "I want you to have something."
She reached into her pocket and removed the heart-shaped rock, holding it out to him. Liam's brows lifted in surprise.
"Really? What's this?"
"I found it at the train station just before I saw you," Emma said, her voice shy but steady. "It reminded me that small things can feel special. And meeting you, everything about this afternoon… Well, those things feel special too."
Liam took the rock, his expression softening into something that looked almost reverent. He turned it over in his fingers, a small smile playing on his lips. "Thank you, Emma. I'll keep it safe."
"You're welcome," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
He looked at her, eyes bright with something she couldn't quite name. "I'm really glad I detoured through the park today."
"Me too," she said.
As they left together, the rock rested securely in Liam's hand, a small reminder of the exact moment their paths crossed.
I’d love to hear what you think about this short — positive, negative, and anywhere in between.
One of my favorites of yours!
I enjoyed this story. Liked that they became friends. Liked that you left it as something more could have happened between them or they could stay really close as good friends.