"I thought you'd be taller."
That’s the first thing he said to me. I mean, who does that? I'm standing outside the library, rain pouring down, my hair flattened against my head, and this stranger looks me up and down with a smirk and tosses out that gem.
I should’ve been annoyed, but something about his eyes—the way they glinted like he’d just pulled off the perfect joke—made me laugh. "Well, I thought I’d have a more original audience tonight,” I shot back, clutching my bag tighter.
“Oh, come on,” he said, leaning a little closer. “You can’t tell me you haven’t heard worse.”
“By worse, you mean…?”
His eyes widened. “Touché.” He bowed slightly, letting his oversized coat billow out. I was just about to tell him to get lost when he straightened up and held out a gloved hand. “Sam. Master of interesting encounters.”
I was tempted to walk away, but something about him was magnetic in a reckless, offbeat sort of way. Maybe it was his confidence, or maybe the fact that he looked like he didn’t quite belong anywhere specific—like he’d stepped out of a dream and wasn’t sure which part of reality he’d landed in.
And maybe… just maybe, I didn’t mind having someone around who could make me laugh on a damp, lonely night like this. I took his hand. “Eva. Also a bit of a professional at… odd encounters.”
We spent the next hour talking in the empty café around the corner, where he ordered the strangest things—a milkshake with three shots of espresso, a stack of napkins folded into little boats, and a slice of pie he let sit there untouched. As the night deepened, Sam told stories that made no sense and asked questions no one ever asks.
He wanted to know what my favorite smell was, what I’d do if I could walk through walls, and which color made me feel safe. Strange, random stuff. Yet each question felt like it chipped away at some wall I didn’t even know I’d built.
I asked him, finally, what he did. His lips twisted into a smile that was equal parts mischievous and kind. “I shift. Here and there.”
“Shift? Like…” I raised an eyebrow, “a shapeshifter?”
Sam’s face lit up, as if he were pleasantly surprised I’d guessed right. “Something like that.” His voice dipped lower, pulling me in. “I can’t stay the same for too long. I get… restless. I can change who I am, who people see, to suit the moment.”
“So… who are you now?”
“Good question.” He tilted his head, watching me. “Right now? I’m the guy who just told you you’re stronger than you think.”
I felt a pang somewhere deep. “Stronger?”
He leaned forward, his gaze piercing, yet so gentle it made me feel exposed. “Eva, you think no one sees you. But they do. You just don’t believe it.”
I blinked, my face heating up. How had he seen so clearly through the mess of me, right down to that invisible knot in my chest, the one that tightened every time I felt too quiet, too small, too afraid to be seen?
“Listen,” he said softly, his voice like a comforting hum in the silence between us. “The world? It notices. People notice. You’re so much bigger than you think.”
I laughed, a nervous sound that broke the tension. “You sound like a fortune cookie.”
His grin returned. “Well, I am full of wisdom. I mean, not me specifically, but this me, right here. The one talking to you.” He shrugged. “Tomorrow I might be a grumpy accountant or an artist who only paints moonscapes. But tonight?” He leaned closer. “Tonight, I’m the guy who gets to tell you that you’re amazing just the way you are.”
The way he said it—genuine, with no hint of irony or agenda—cut through every shield I had. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, to brush off the compliment and hold it close.
The next day, Sam was gone.
For a few days, I searched for him—hoping, I guess, to find him hanging around some hidden corner of the city, leaning against another building with that same smirk. But he was nowhere. I’d almost convinced myself I’d imagined him, that the whole night was some feverish, rain-soaked dream.
Then, a week later, I found something tucked into my bag. A folded piece of paper in handwriting that I recognized immediately.
Eva, it read, the world has enough people who play it safe. Don’t be one of them. Yours in spirit, Sam.
I looked up, half expecting to see him again, grinning from behind a lamppost or ducking into a shop. But there was no one. Just the street, busy and oblivious, with its everyday rhythm of people coming and going.
I’d never believed much in magic or fate or anything like that. But meeting Sam? It was like meeting a version of myself I hadn’t known existed. A version who believed, maybe just a little, that I was worth noticing.
And somehow, in that quiet, ordinary moment, a compliment from a stranger—a shapeshifter, no less—became the anchor that kept me from fading away, the spark that made me feel alive.
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What a beautifully written encounter! You captured the magic of those rare, unexpected connections that shake something loose inside of us. Sam's mysterious, shifting nature adds such a dreamlike quality to this story, and his words to Eva feel like they come at just the right time. It’s as if he sees straight into her, giving her the courage she didn’t know she needed. This piece resonates with anyone who’s ever felt unseen and suddenly discovered a spark of magic in themselves. Thank you for sharing such an enchanting story!
Thank you so much for reading and for such a thoughtful comment! I'm glad you felt the magic in the connection between Sam and Eva—it’s amazing how a stranger can sometimes give us exactly what we need. Your words mean a lot!