tagged traveler

The woman, for a variety of reasons was crossing the street on this NewYork winter morning. None of which were noteworthy, noneofwhich would win her the award for most enduring and noble spouse. She wanted a coffee. She wanted a glitter ball toy for her cat. It was however, a mistake to wear suede shoes out in the morning, but she conceded, she wasn't going far, and fashion over function always suited her best- even with dangerously wet sidewalks, and especially when depressed. Her diamond earrings, a gift from said non-endured spouse, who every morning poured over droll philosophic books, and looked best in a smoking jacket but never condescended to wear one. This displeased her greatly. Red was his color, and there it sat, never to be looked at. So she was out and obviously about, and didn't give a damn if the suede got ruined.

She picked a particularly chic coffee shop. One with it's couches, and fireplace- a quaint accouterment to her general fashionable self. She ordered a latte. Non-specific, and remarked at how empty, strangely, the place appeared to be. She half-hoped in a haze that customers would manifest themselves quietly around her to complete the ambiance. The clerk or barista, if he be, ignored her and turned back to his double-shot espresso.

She realized she had been staring into the sun. Which was a harsh and unflattering light. Although if positioned correctly the filtered light made her glow and feel effervescent. She felt, at such a time, that effervescence was exactly required. So she placed herself in a leather chair in front of the streaming sun... as to be a dark, mysterious figure- legs crossed in fashionable suede shoes. Perhaps her diamond earrings might catch the light. She delicately tied her hair and watched as the light danced over her hands.

There was however, despite the lighting, nothing to read. She remained austere but sadly not anywhere near bubbly or luminous and decided it was a bad description of the feeling she required. She left the coffee shop and threw away a perfectly warm half cup of latte.

The glitter ball for the cat was easier and didn't require her ultra-sense of scenic arrangement. It was a different script altogether. She contemplated the various toys as it began to flurry outside. She glanced out, somewhat insulted, that it hadn't picked a more idyllic moment, as it would've been, had she fallen or ruined her shoe or broken up with her lover- then flurry. That would be something. She didn't have a lover but wondered, how it would be to rendevous somewhere near the nutritional food supplies and the cat scratchers and spend a good amount of time, where no one went, and made out for a while- or maybe until her mouth was sore- with her lover.

She lacked passion, and as she crossed the street and little bits of flurry threatened her shoes, she noted the cold feeling where the latte had been. She climbed the 8 steps required to gain entrance to her apartment lobby, pausing to watch it grow increasingly dark. The door man remarked on the weather and she agreed, remarking that- wasn’t it typical- the weather had ruined her shoes. He was sympathetic, told a story about dropping a scarf in a puddle once. She said, how sad, and pushed the elevator button.
Back in the apartment her husband was still at his stack of books.

She said, But love look. I’ve ruined my shoes.

He glanced down and then out the window, remarking as well that the weather was bad. I didn’t like the shoes anyway, he said.

“But, Viktor, you-“

“You have something for the cat?” he said. “He’ll love it.”

“Yes”, she sighed holding up the unremarkable bag, “He won’t care you know.”

He came up to her and kissed her on the lips and nestled his face in her neck.

“You’re warm”, she said.

“You’re crying? But why, Amelia?”

She shook her head and pulled away, “It’ll be gone in a moment.”