“Why are your hands purple?”
“That, my friend, is a very good question.” I glance down at my fingers, which are purple enough to make an old Roman ruler envious.
Looking back up I can see her exasperated expression. “We hired you as a hand model for this ad, not as a smurf.” Shaking her head she shoos me towards the door.
“Smurfs are blue…not purple,” she is unimpressed by my vast knowledge, as am I, but it’s the only thing my brain is offering me as a response, other then “Wait, I can wash it or-” The door is slammed in my face.
Well, that went about as well as could be expected…
I wander around office cubicles filled with ringing phones and chattering voices and out onto the street. I guess I’ll just head back to my favorite cafe, Au Bon Pain, and work some more on my book.
The ringing of the little bell on the big green door is familiar and welcoming, and Sara looks up, smiling as usual, and follows me towards a window booth.
“Alright sweetie, what can I get for ya?” She holds a pen gracefully poised above her notepad for orders.
I sigh, “How about an idea for this chapter? I’m stuck at a writing block again.” I pull my laptop from my backpack and open up the sloppy web page of my scrambled thoughts that I am trying to turn into an actual story.
Sara shakes her head sympathetically. “Ah sugar, you’re the great writer, not me. I just fuel the enthusiasm with cupcakes.”
“Thanks. Hey, speaking of which, you have any of those chocolate chunk things in?” I question hopefully.
I’m in luck, they’ve got a plate just behind the counter. Sara scurries off and I avoid my work more by watching the cars passing outside.
A few minutes later, cupcake in hand and napkin on lap, I still haven’t started even one line of this chapter. A little while after that, my head is on the table and I’ve begun hallucinating wildly as we humans often do.
In my dream, I am walking along a bridge in a rose garden. There are flowers and trees and lush green grass, with clear rippling blue water below, and puffy white clouds above. But something still seems off.
Me being the procrastinator I am, I postpone my worry as well as I can, and try simply admiring the beauty around me.
But anxiety doesn’t work that way and soon I am uncomfortably glancing about, wondering why there is no one else here. No visitors, no owners or gardeners, no animals, no birds or even a bug in sight. There wasn’t wind either and the temperature of the air was exactly he same as my own.
“Something is not right.” I state the obvious, to myself, alone, in an empty garden.
And this is why I’m single.
Humming to fill the eerie silence, I begin spinning wildly through the trees, until I fall down, down, downnnnnnn and then I’m right side up again in a castle, gown twisting around my ankles, I’m dancing with a stranger.
The manager from the advertising company I’d been turned down for earlier was stamping her foot along to the music, but when our eyes met she frowned, and lifted her hands. They were vibrantly purple. People began gasping, and waving around their extremities, all of which were slowly becoming more and more blue, then purple, then pink and red…
I turn to run away, and start floating instead, looking up into the chandelier above me, struggling to get down, and into the bright yellow light I go, trapped in the candles flame, and I’m in a burning room, fire and smoke all around me, the blackness darker than my broken soul.
Coughing, I try to stand but slip on a dark wet substance, landing on my face. Was it blood? It was sticky and disturbing, but no, it was more like…
Chocolate cupcake was mushed into my cheek, my eyes opening slowly and painfully. How long had I been out? Why hadn’t Sara woken me up?
I sit up and flail my arm out, trying to shake the tingling from my limbs.
“Ouch!” Some dude walking next to me yelped, and then gasped when he saw my bleary, half-awake face. “I’m fine,” he stammered and stumbled away.
I groan and lay my head back down, once again on top of my cupcake.
“Oh sugar, what did you do? I go out for my lunch break and you make a mess of yourself… ” Sara helped me wipe off my face and brushed crumbs off my laptop. “Honestly child, how do you survive living on your own?”
Out on the street it’s begun to rain, and I decide to give up on the rest of this Saturday. I’ll just go home and watch Sherlock on Netflix until my eyes bleed.
To Be Continued At A Later Point In Time When I Am Less Tired Hopefully.