Wednesday, October 14, 2009


SETTING: The family room. It's the time of day where the natural light streaming through the windowpanes provides sufficient brightness, and as a result all the light switches, which when upturned trigger blinding explosions of harsh artificial shine, remain "OFF." GIRL sits on the couch, the one by the windows, her body sharing equally both sofa cushions, her back slumped deep into the pillows. She cradles a laptop upon her thighs, her feet turned inward as if ready to join forces and catch in their embedding anything that may potentially fall downhill. No sound, save the gentle murmur of the gas fireplace as it emits welcomed heat. She is alone but for her sole feline companion, though one may successfully argue that cats, in all their self-absorption, provide little in the way of camaraderie.

Currently GIRL, still seated, stares fixated at a spot on the opposite wall, in the middle of the large portrait where the light from outside casts a reflective glare on the glass casing. Only the window blinds are visible in this expedient mirror, and their monotonous, stacked lines attract her absentminded gaze. It becomes clear she is thinking, mulling rather tremendously over some idea, some situation, some encounter that has caught her in a grip, emphatically inescapable until thought has made its full course.

She shifts her feet, drawing them up from the floor and settling them, crossed, on top of the wooden table. Her back sinks lower into the cushions.

GIRL's lips part ever so slightly and begin to silently articulate one word, two words, three, four, ten, fifteen. Her mouth repeats this exercise once more. Then again. There passes another bout of tranquil reflection. Suddenly, her lips resume form and make one last effort to express this phrase, this wonderful, strange phrase implanted in her memory courtesy of a new, old friend; and here she finds her voice, slight and delicate.

GIRL: Time and geography are just obstacles. If it's meant to be, you'll get over them.

Silence. Her eyes resume their watch of the mimicked blinds. She blinks. Belief flashes in, belief flashes out.