A few blogs ago, I decided to write and create a story based on this fictional character called Sarah- a few you who have read it may have figured that Sarah has very similar traits and characteristics to me, and that may be true, but I assure you the events of this story are purely fictional and do not recount a true story (disclaimer), so any predications that this is based on Celine Aswad is false...
Now, and more importantly, I have decided to give you bits and pieces of the story, from various parts, rather than in sequential order, and this may be a marketing strategy so in case one day I do decide to write and publish this into a novel, I would have only revealed snippets of it here and there. So here is another dose of the story- Enjoy!
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Vibrate, vibrate- the BlackBerry was blinking red again. Another email to interrupt the summer stroll, but she had no other choice but to take out the interruptive device from its black leather holster. Sarah placed the Bold in her hand and her eyes were glued onto the screen; her soft smile turned to concern and her brows furrowed. Phil was looking at the series of facial expression changes; the email was clearly not good news. Her hands started to shake, though he couldn’t see what she was reading, he could see her double blink, as if to shrug off what she read the first time, and re-read it to confirm that the words that stared back at her were real, and really loaded. A death, a fire that destroyed her house, an accident, an ex sending her an email? Different spurts of thoughts started popping up in his mind. Why was he concerned all that much? He instinctively took a step forward with the intent to comfort her, but she paid him no attention. She started typing away at her device, pausing then typing, pausing and then there it was a tear (of loss, anger, fear?) escaping a blink. She continued to type away, took a deep breath in, as if she were about to submerge herself underwater, took a final look at her BB and docked it back in the holster, and threw it back in her purse.
The streets of Paris were buzzing with summer tunes, filled with tourists and Parisians frolicking to the beat of the sun rays that penetrated the cloud dotted sky. Even those going to work on this Wednesday morning were in no rush, but all these summer enchantments dissipated as Sarah felt a cold chill swarm her body and heard her heart beat take a nosedive into a bottomless pit- bad news always travels fast. She gazed into nowhere in particular until she caught her reflection in his black tinted glasses. He was inching closer to her, and her eyes swelled up with more tears she had been trying to fight back, her first instinct was to turn and run the opposite direction, as far away from happiness as she could. But happiness embraced her, and she let go.
He stood there, with her face in the clasp of his palms; she was as delicate as the petal of a blossoming rose. As her tears ran down her face like morning dew trickling down he stood helpless, there was nothing more he can do but cradle her in his arms softly rocking her, and soothing her. Her tears turned to sobs, and her breathing became heavier, as she breathed deeply she pulled away from him, slightly shying away, she didn’t want him to see her weak. He smudged away the now smeared black mascara that found its way to the middle of her cheek and onto his white shirt. She still looked beautiful. “You think I’m just a cry baby right now, don’t you?” she asked as the remnants of the last inked black tear dripped onto her sky-blue blouse. “Let’s go to a toy shop and make the cry baby feel better?” She could not help but giggle at his attempt to make her smile, “may be ice cream on the way?” She scrambled in her purse in search of a tissue and mirror to fix the mess she created, but to no avail, “what’s the point of carrying this huge thing when it does not even have what I need” she thought to herself, “waste of money.” “Here you go”, he handed her his sunglasses, “that should temporarily veil you from the outside world till you get yourself cleaned up”. She wore them, thanked him with a smile, he placed his arms around her shoulders and they continued down the streets of Paris together.
A slight summer breeze brushed against them as they walked and she ate her Walls ice-cream, strawberry and vanilla, that ought to set the mood just right. Ice-cream was the best “pick-me up”, the cold burst of flavor was refreshing. Then sun rays reflected off the Seine and his green eyes, as he finally began to ask her, “So the Black Berry isn’t always the bearer of good news now is it? Want to talk about it?”
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