B U B B L ES :
She awoke to bubbles.
Tickles and giggles and bubbles and bursts of frenzied fizzy feelings –bursting like, l as if she was about to pop right out of her skin. And so she felt......a smile devoured her being . The tingles touched her smile and drew it even wider as she was rushed along this tumbling tumult of emotions.
A buzzing – a buoyancy that felt as if to lift her off the bed....
That giddy feeling you get when you are just so excited.....and with it comes a breathlessness. In a rush, as awakening from sleep, your conscious thoughts are carried along in a flow of primeval excitement. And like bubbles, the feeling is that you are about to be borne – airborne, to a new dizzying height. Such excitement creates a flush and a fever.
Had she ever felt this way before? Not really. There had been, and were times, when she tapped down on the left rudder pedal and pulled the yoke to port, that the plane would sideslip, it’s left wing would dip towards the earth – and for a moment it was that intense sensation of the bottom dropping out of the world. You know like when you are cruising along in a car and go over a rise in the roadway, when the road drops off abruptly from the top of the rise – and your whole being just free-floats for a moment or two. That was similar, but not as intense as what she was feeling at the moment.
She dropped her hands to her sides, lying flat on her back,staring up at the ceiling.
‘Hang on, cherie’, she muttered. ‘Hang on!’
And in those next few moments she let her mind play out – to examine, the expectations that were the cause of this great sensation.
He was coming to see her – he was coming back. She hadn’t expected it. Had really resigned herself to the finality of their choice. Had recovered most of her old self. Was again able to sit in creative meetings, to direct her team – to find inspiration for new and wonderful concepts. Had again discovered the deep well of her natural born talents.
It had been tough. ‘ No’, she found herself thinking, ‘It had been brutal. Pain beyond painful, sadness beyond tears. And now, that time had put the tears behind her – now that she felt whole, and vital once again, she knew they might re-build their fairy tale.
Closing her eyes she allowed her mind to drift, as on a wave of alka-seltzer froth. A year ago. Where had she been, where had they been a year ago? It was a year since that first encounter. Or close enough to it. When she, sitting completely engrossed in a presentation she was reviewing at a table in Starbucks, was suddenly jostled from behind.
Her chair, bumped forward, pulled her from her concentration. She had half turned in her seat to see what was happening, when she looked up into the sharpest, most amazing green eyes she had ever seen.
‘I’m so very sorry, ma’ am. Didn’t mean to disturb you.....I was just trying to plug my phone in here.’ As he pointed to the wall outlet.
Her immediate reaction had been to acidly reply to the abrupt intrusion, but the power of his eyes, and the embarrassed half-smile that played at the corners of his mouth, stopped the words. Her breath caught slightly in her chest. She, unexpectedly, felt a flush of embarrassment. The cultured British accent erased any lingering sense of annoyance.
She rested her arm on the back of the bentwood chair, half turned towards him. And in that glance she was aware of numerous things that pulled at her attention. She registered the bottle green corduroy pants, the soft rust coloured suede jacket.
His shirt, a fine tattersal check, of a soft flannel, was a perfect counter-point.
‘Perfectly okay’, she said, gazing up at him. His hair, somewhat longish, with a natural wave in it, was lustrous and full...... a little over his ears to give him a touch of a roguish look.
She was instantly intrigued but just as she was about to add some smartish remark, her cel-phone rang. Reflexively she turned to look at the face of the phone, and seeing who was calling knew she had to answer.
She felt torn between wanting to extend the conversation and her auto-reflex to promptly respond to take care of business. Still looking up at him, she fumbled the phone up off the table, and with her eyes and a hand motion to him indicated she had no choice but to take the call.
He smiled, a dazzling smile, and mouthed, ‘It’s okay – again, very sorry’, and waved gently to her as he turned to sit at his own table.
Somewhat exasperatedly she punched the answer button, and said, ‘Oui – hello. This is Chantal.’
‘Salut cherie’, she heard. ‘Where are you?’
‘Hi Jason. I’m actually at a Starbucks – trying to fine-tune our presentation. And you?’
‘I’m downtown about a block from our appointment. Yeah – I know, I’m always the overly early bird. But, didn’t know what to expect with traffic, and downtown Miami can be difficult at the best of times. So, I’m going to find a Starbucks or something also. How long will you be? We have a little over an hour before our meeting.’
‘Well, I’m just over in South Beach. Can be there in 15 minutes. Give me half an hour to finish this up and I’ll meet you in the lobby of the building there.’
‘Sounds good’, he said. ‘Ciao’, and he rang off.
She sighed, turned around to say something to the English gentleman, and was instantly disappointed to find him in earnest conversation with a beautiful blonde woman. Not only was she blond and stunning looking, she was a knockout in a bikini that was clearly visible under the gauzy wrap she had tied about herself.
‘Hmmm’, she thought cattily. ‘Given the way she looks there’s no way they’d let this one in without the coverup.....would probably cause a pileup in the lineup.’
She felt a pinging disappointment. She would have liked to have had the chance to speak with him. At least to introduce herself.
She turned her attention back to her laptop and for the next several minutes was completely caught up in the presentation document.
Checking her watch she found that over twenty minutes had flashed by. Realising she still had to pay her bill, pack up herself, get outside and find a cab, she started to shut down her computer.
She turned in her chair to retrieve her portfolio case, and also realized that Mr Britain was no longer at the table. Nor was his accomplice. She knew that one of her great assets, as well as a sometimes negative, was her ability to completely immerse herself in a task at hand and be unawares of what went on around her.
But she also felt a little let down, again......for she would have liked a shot of his charm, she found herself thinking.
She stood and organized all her things on a chair and walked over to the cash to settle her bill.
A tall, lanky barista, at the cash, watched her as she approached.
As she placed her wallet on the counter he held up one hand imperiously.
.No! he said. ‘Senor has taken care of the lovely lady. And he asked me to give you this....’ And he extended a business card towards her.
‘I think he left a note for you on the back. Such a sweet man – too bad he’s chasing you and not me.’ He said with the flash of a grin and a toss of his ponytail.
‘Oh....’, she stuttered. ‘ That was very kind of him. I didn’t see him leave......’
‘It’s no a matter’, he said. ‘Buena suerte en el amor.....Good luck in love....’ She smiled, and looked at the card.
Daniel Heath-Jones
Director, International Relations Public Affairs
The London News Network
She turned the card over and read, ‘ So very sorry once again. Perhaps we might have a proper coffee, or tea, together? You can contact me at 615-220-1221. Daniel’
Bubbles..... the sense of bubbles skittering about in her stomach and up into her chest brought a broad smile to her face.
Looking up at the barista, she said, ‘Mucho gracias, senor.’
She turned, gathered up her things and strode towards the front door.
That, she recalled, was the beginning. And as memories and images slipped through her mind, she rode the roller coaster of those days and nights as they swung her up, down, sideways – side-slipping, almost delirious with happiness.
‘Tonight!’ she promised silently. ‘Tonight....we’ll make it all better. We’ll make it all good again. We’ll cross that bridge and together, explore the mysteries of our future.'
With that she got up from her bed, padded across the polished concrete floor and pulled open the gauzy sheers that covered the floor to ceiling windows.
The day was crisp clear and full of the promise she felt inside......
Chapter 2:
She moved through her morning routine smoothly. Coffee, assorted medications, shower, hair, etc.
Finally, she sat, steaming coffee rising before her, watching the morning news on the large flatscreen suspended above the fireplace.
This room always comforted her. It had taken time, effort and a sizeable budget to get it to where it was, but where it was now acted as an anchor for her, for her stressful days and frantic pace.
She had been lucky to literally stumble across a very talented designer, who once she got to know him, proved to be an astute and sensitive interpreter of her moods, of her likes and dislikes, and with a great patience had counseled her on the value of well thought-out design.
‘It is always an investment’, he had said in their first meeting. ‘Yes, of course – investment is synonymous with cost, but if you manage it all carefully, with a well developed roadmap, over time the dividends it will generate will not be measurable so much in dollars and cents, but in comfort and content.’
She had listened to him, intently. Was taken by his quiet flair and ability to not only think outside the box, but to define the box.....much more important. That was how she had developed as a highly paid graphics maven. And so, finding it in a contemporary – one who was clearly committed to her needs and wants – was both a refuge and a professional joy.
The large rippled glass screens that flanked the fireplace at seemingly unpredictable angles, were the brainwave and inspiration of the two of them on a Saturday collaboration. It had been inspired by a visit to a stained glass artist in Old Towne.....and seeing how different lights of different colours, could shape the mood of the space it defined, was a wonderful discovery.
They particularly spoke their presence on an evening when the gas fire licked slowly up and around the box that contained it, and the light pulses were directly linked, and attuned to the soft jazz that she preferred as her musical companion.
‘And’ , she found her self thinking, ‘Tonight they will become the centerpiece of a lovely symphony – a joyous renaissance.’
For tonight, she had arranged with Daniel, a reunion dinner. All was set – she had everything at the ready for when she got home from the office. And, on the way home she would stop and pick up the especially prepared dinner from her – and what was once their, favourite restaurant.’
Glancing at her watch she saw she had better get moving in order to be downstairs in time for her pickup.
Placing the coffee cup in the sink, she took one quick look around then headed to get her coat and case.
Closing the door behind her she felt again that same sense of fizzy bubbles – deep in her tummy. And her smile guided her to the elevator and down to the lobby.
Chapter 3:
The day had been full, her productivity had been high, and the meetings all well managed. And they managed to end on time, or close to it.
She pushed open the cab door and with some difficulty balanced her briefcase along with the bag containing dinner and a couple of bottles of wine.
Santo, the doorman, rushed to her side and putting his arm out relieved her of the shopping bag, all the while smiling and chuckling.
‘Santo – you’re a doll’, she said. ‘Thank you...... just help me get it into the elevator and I’ll be okay.
‘No problem mademoiselle. I’ll help you up with it all.....’ ‘Not necessary’, she said. ‘I can manage. But thank you.’ ‘Are we having a special occasion this evening?’
Her smile confirmed to him that that was the case.
‘Most definitely. Do you remember Daniel? My friend from last year?’
‘I do – I do’, he said. ‘And is he coming for a visit?’
‘Yes – he really is. When he gets here, you don’t have to call ....... Just send him up, okay?’
And her inside mind said to her inside heart, ‘Cause I’ll be, for sure, waiting
©2018 michael moore
She awoke to bubbles.
Tickles and giggles and bubbles and bursts of frenzied fizzy feelings –bursting like, l as if she was about to pop right out of her skin. And so she felt......a smile devoured her being . The tingles touched her smile and drew it even wider as she was rushed along this tumbling tumult of emotions.
A buzzing – a buoyancy that felt as if to lift her off the bed....
That giddy feeling you get when you are just so excited.....and with it comes a breathlessness. In a rush, as awakening from sleep, your conscious thoughts are carried along in a flow of primeval excitement. And like bubbles, the feeling is that you are about to be borne – airborne, to a new dizzying height. Such excitement creates a flush and a fever.
Had she ever felt this way before? Not really. There had been, and were times, when she tapped down on the left rudder pedal and pulled the yoke to port, that the plane would sideslip, it’s left wing would dip towards the earth – and for a moment it was that intense sensation of the bottom dropping out of the world. You know like when you are cruising along in a car and go over a rise in the roadway, when the road drops off abruptly from the top of the rise – and your whole being just free-floats for a moment or two. That was similar, but not as intense as what she was feeling at the moment.
She dropped her hands to her sides, lying flat on her back,staring up at the ceiling.
‘Hang on, cherie’, she muttered. ‘Hang on!’
And in those next few moments she let her mind play out – to examine, the expectations that were the cause of this great sensation.
He was coming to see her – he was coming back. She hadn’t expected it. Had really resigned herself to the finality of their choice. Had recovered most of her old self. Was again able to sit in creative meetings, to direct her team – to find inspiration for new and wonderful concepts. Had again discovered the deep well of her natural born talents.
It had been tough. ‘ No’, she found herself thinking, ‘It had been brutal. Pain beyond painful, sadness beyond tears. And now, that time had put the tears behind her – now that she felt whole, and vital once again, she knew they might re-build their fairy tale.
Closing her eyes she allowed her mind to drift, as on a wave of alka-seltzer froth. A year ago. Where had she been, where had they been a year ago? It was a year since that first encounter. Or close enough to it. When she, sitting completely engrossed in a presentation she was reviewing at a table in Starbucks, was suddenly jostled from behind.
Her chair, bumped forward, pulled her from her concentration. She had half turned in her seat to see what was happening, when she looked up into the sharpest, most amazing green eyes she had ever seen.
‘I’m so very sorry, ma’ am. Didn’t mean to disturb you.....I was just trying to plug my phone in here.’ As he pointed to the wall outlet.
Her immediate reaction had been to acidly reply to the abrupt intrusion, but the power of his eyes, and the embarrassed half-smile that played at the corners of his mouth, stopped the words. Her breath caught slightly in her chest. She, unexpectedly, felt a flush of embarrassment. The cultured British accent erased any lingering sense of annoyance.
She rested her arm on the back of the bentwood chair, half turned towards him. And in that glance she was aware of numerous things that pulled at her attention. She registered the bottle green corduroy pants, the soft rust coloured suede jacket.
His shirt, a fine tattersal check, of a soft flannel, was a perfect counter-point.
‘Perfectly okay’, she said, gazing up at him. His hair, somewhat longish, with a natural wave in it, was lustrous and full...... a little over his ears to give him a touch of a roguish look.
She was instantly intrigued but just as she was about to add some smartish remark, her cel-phone rang. Reflexively she turned to look at the face of the phone, and seeing who was calling knew she had to answer.
She felt torn between wanting to extend the conversation and her auto-reflex to promptly respond to take care of business. Still looking up at him, she fumbled the phone up off the table, and with her eyes and a hand motion to him indicated she had no choice but to take the call.
He smiled, a dazzling smile, and mouthed, ‘It’s okay – again, very sorry’, and waved gently to her as he turned to sit at his own table.
Somewhat exasperatedly she punched the answer button, and said, ‘Oui – hello. This is Chantal.’
‘Salut cherie’, she heard. ‘Where are you?’
‘Hi Jason. I’m actually at a Starbucks – trying to fine-tune our presentation. And you?’
‘I’m downtown about a block from our appointment. Yeah – I know, I’m always the overly early bird. But, didn’t know what to expect with traffic, and downtown Miami can be difficult at the best of times. So, I’m going to find a Starbucks or something also. How long will you be? We have a little over an hour before our meeting.’
‘Well, I’m just over in South Beach. Can be there in 15 minutes. Give me half an hour to finish this up and I’ll meet you in the lobby of the building there.’
‘Sounds good’, he said. ‘Ciao’, and he rang off.
She sighed, turned around to say something to the English gentleman, and was instantly disappointed to find him in earnest conversation with a beautiful blonde woman. Not only was she blond and stunning looking, she was a knockout in a bikini that was clearly visible under the gauzy wrap she had tied about herself.
‘Hmmm’, she thought cattily. ‘Given the way she looks there’s no way they’d let this one in without the coverup.....would probably cause a pileup in the lineup.’
She felt a pinging disappointment. She would have liked to have had the chance to speak with him. At least to introduce herself.
She turned her attention back to her laptop and for the next several minutes was completely caught up in the presentation document.
Checking her watch she found that over twenty minutes had flashed by. Realising she still had to pay her bill, pack up herself, get outside and find a cab, she started to shut down her computer.
She turned in her chair to retrieve her portfolio case, and also realized that Mr Britain was no longer at the table. Nor was his accomplice. She knew that one of her great assets, as well as a sometimes negative, was her ability to completely immerse herself in a task at hand and be unawares of what went on around her.
But she also felt a little let down, again......for she would have liked a shot of his charm, she found herself thinking.
She stood and organized all her things on a chair and walked over to the cash to settle her bill.
A tall, lanky barista, at the cash, watched her as she approached.
As she placed her wallet on the counter he held up one hand imperiously.
.No! he said. ‘Senor has taken care of the lovely lady. And he asked me to give you this....’ And he extended a business card towards her.
‘I think he left a note for you on the back. Such a sweet man – too bad he’s chasing you and not me.’ He said with the flash of a grin and a toss of his ponytail.
‘Oh....’, she stuttered. ‘ That was very kind of him. I didn’t see him leave......’
‘It’s no a matter’, he said. ‘Buena suerte en el amor.....Good luck in love....’ She smiled, and looked at the card.
Daniel Heath-Jones
Director, International Relations Public Affairs
The London News Network
She turned the card over and read, ‘ So very sorry once again. Perhaps we might have a proper coffee, or tea, together? You can contact me at 615-220-1221. Daniel’
Bubbles..... the sense of bubbles skittering about in her stomach and up into her chest brought a broad smile to her face.
Looking up at the barista, she said, ‘Mucho gracias, senor.’
She turned, gathered up her things and strode towards the front door.
That, she recalled, was the beginning. And as memories and images slipped through her mind, she rode the roller coaster of those days and nights as they swung her up, down, sideways – side-slipping, almost delirious with happiness.
‘Tonight!’ she promised silently. ‘Tonight....we’ll make it all better. We’ll make it all good again. We’ll cross that bridge and together, explore the mysteries of our future.'
With that she got up from her bed, padded across the polished concrete floor and pulled open the gauzy sheers that covered the floor to ceiling windows.
The day was crisp clear and full of the promise she felt inside......
Chapter 2:
She moved through her morning routine smoothly. Coffee, assorted medications, shower, hair, etc.
Finally, she sat, steaming coffee rising before her, watching the morning news on the large flatscreen suspended above the fireplace.
This room always comforted her. It had taken time, effort and a sizeable budget to get it to where it was, but where it was now acted as an anchor for her, for her stressful days and frantic pace.
She had been lucky to literally stumble across a very talented designer, who once she got to know him, proved to be an astute and sensitive interpreter of her moods, of her likes and dislikes, and with a great patience had counseled her on the value of well thought-out design.
‘It is always an investment’, he had said in their first meeting. ‘Yes, of course – investment is synonymous with cost, but if you manage it all carefully, with a well developed roadmap, over time the dividends it will generate will not be measurable so much in dollars and cents, but in comfort and content.’
She had listened to him, intently. Was taken by his quiet flair and ability to not only think outside the box, but to define the box.....much more important. That was how she had developed as a highly paid graphics maven. And so, finding it in a contemporary – one who was clearly committed to her needs and wants – was both a refuge and a professional joy.
The large rippled glass screens that flanked the fireplace at seemingly unpredictable angles, were the brainwave and inspiration of the two of them on a Saturday collaboration. It had been inspired by a visit to a stained glass artist in Old Towne.....and seeing how different lights of different colours, could shape the mood of the space it defined, was a wonderful discovery.
They particularly spoke their presence on an evening when the gas fire licked slowly up and around the box that contained it, and the light pulses were directly linked, and attuned to the soft jazz that she preferred as her musical companion.
‘And’ , she found her self thinking, ‘Tonight they will become the centerpiece of a lovely symphony – a joyous renaissance.’
For tonight, she had arranged with Daniel, a reunion dinner. All was set – she had everything at the ready for when she got home from the office. And, on the way home she would stop and pick up the especially prepared dinner from her – and what was once their, favourite restaurant.’
Glancing at her watch she saw she had better get moving in order to be downstairs in time for her pickup.
Placing the coffee cup in the sink, she took one quick look around then headed to get her coat and case.
Closing the door behind her she felt again that same sense of fizzy bubbles – deep in her tummy. And her smile guided her to the elevator and down to the lobby.
Chapter 3:
The day had been full, her productivity had been high, and the meetings all well managed. And they managed to end on time, or close to it.
She pushed open the cab door and with some difficulty balanced her briefcase along with the bag containing dinner and a couple of bottles of wine.
Santo, the doorman, rushed to her side and putting his arm out relieved her of the shopping bag, all the while smiling and chuckling.
‘Santo – you’re a doll’, she said. ‘Thank you...... just help me get it into the elevator and I’ll be okay.
‘No problem mademoiselle. I’ll help you up with it all.....’ ‘Not necessary’, she said. ‘I can manage. But thank you.’ ‘Are we having a special occasion this evening?’
Her smile confirmed to him that that was the case.
‘Most definitely. Do you remember Daniel? My friend from last year?’
‘I do – I do’, he said. ‘And is he coming for a visit?’
‘Yes – he really is. When he gets here, you don’t have to call ....... Just send him up, okay?’
And her inside mind said to her inside heart, ‘Cause I’ll be, for sure, waiting
©2018 michael moore