A/N: One day I decided to try and write drabbles, stories of about a 100 words. That idea evolved in my head and eventually turned into this. The stories are a bit longer than I intended, and all of them start and finish with same sentence. Each written from a different POV, and all about another person. I hope you enjoy it and I would love a review!
Summary: Short stories from different POV's with one common theme. First meetings.
Disclaimer: Don't own it, wish I did.
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Alan
I was kind of scared to meet him at first. Well, maybe not scared, more like anxious. Nervous.
Over the last few weeks Charlie could not stop talking about how he finally found someone who understood him, a mentor, a friend. Professor Larry Fleinhardt.
I knew that if Charlie really saw this man as a friend I would accept it. But why did Charlie have faculty members as friends? What if this guy was only using Charlie as a personal puppet? He had established quite a name already and in his entire life people had wanted to claim him as their own little genius. What if this man was the same as all the others and Charlie didn't see it? But more important, would there be anything I could or should do about it?
These considerations made me scared. I would be meeting the man who might have a huge impact on my son, and I was not sure whether that would be positive or not. Charlie had always been someone who needed a little more attention, and I could not help but be a bit reprehensive with meeting this person.
And now he had invited me and Margaret to meet him at the university.
On the way over I decided not to let my feelings show to Margaret, not sure whether she would become worried as well or laugh at my over-protectiveness. With clammy hands I approached the information desk where we had agreed to meet professor Fleinhardt.
When we arrived there we saw nobody who looked like the professor we had in mind, so we asked the man behind the desk to point us to his office.
'Professor Fleinhardt? There he is.' He said and pointed to a man who I had not noticed when I walked in. He appeared to be engrossed in some internal debate and was talking to himself. He was scratching his head with his hand, and when we ventured closer I could hear him mumble. Was this the brilliant professor Charlie thought so highly about?
My anxiousness was immediately replaced by curiosity. This was a man who was interesting in many aspects, not only because he was my son's friend, but his presence alone made me smile. When we were close enough I touched him on the shoulder, startling him. He turned around to us. He looked in my eyes for a few moments and we both seemed to find what we were looking for. Then he started talking.
'Mr. Eppes. My name is Lawrence Fleinhardt, but please call me Larry. It's very fortunate to finally meet you.' And he extended his hand.
The moment I had looked him in the eye and he had spoken these words I knew that I had nothing to worry about.