Originally published 09/29/2006
The light was especially complimentary to her that day. It shone upon her face almost angelically, highlighting the red in her hair that usually went unnoticed by the human eye. All around her the colors of the season turned brilliant, and the vibrancy of the falling leaves ran circles around her feet. For most, the spring was that magical season of love and lust, but all of her enchanting encounters took place in the fall.
The fall was especially hopeful even in its infancy. Still, in the early hours of that first morning, the crisp air whispered promises, and the morning dew dripped of desire leaving her eager and waiting. Romance can be particularly tricky in the summertime. Brief flings and one night stands were the talk of those days, but any seriousness is left for the soothing spirit of autumn.
There was one, though. One that had made his way through her rules of the seasons. The filmstrip of their wondrous hours was stuck on repeat in her mind’s eye, and no matter the effort it refused to release her thoughts to focus on more productive matters of the day. Each moment was relived as though it was new leaving her exasperated, and completely out of breath. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
Out of desperation she broke her own rule. Each push of a button sent a shiver straight from her finger through her backbone, making their way out through the tips of her toes. The ringing was infernal, and with each waiting second her patience with the matter ran more thinly than the second before. No answer. “Damnit,” she thought, far more audibly than she had preferred. Her resilience only goes so far, and she wasn’t prepared for the failure of her first attempt.
“Crap,” escaped her lips in a deep grumble as her phone made its way from her grasp to the rigid edge of her maple headboard. The strength of her persistence was wearing increasingly thin, and her patience was losing its grasp as her fingers once again tapped out the seven excruciating digits. This time she held the phone out in front of her staring it down as if she could will him to answer through her thoughts. No answer.
At this point she’s on her knees, pulling threads from the hand-sewn rug beneath her as the tears flew effortlessly, soaking themselves deep into the pink fibers turning them a deep crimson red. How could this one make it past her defenses, and why did her emotions run so deeply in his regard? She relented. No more tears would fall, and no more reels of film would run through her head. The potential for a lifetime of happiness and passion was just not worth enduring this aching.
Brushing herself off, and reapplying her cried-off waterproof mascara she stood silent on the now red rug. Each moment spent weeping was a moment she regretted already, and the stride that returned itself to her step once again exuded the confidence she had held only hours before. She wrapped her coat warmly around her, and snatched her bag from the kitchen table on her way to the door. It was the first day of fall, and to waste it would be against every fiber of her being. She made her way through the entryway and out into the open expanse of the season, leaving the reels burning behind her.