Showing posts with label Today Belongs to Her. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Today Belongs to Her. Show all posts

Friday, 25 June 2010

#Friday Flash Fiction


Today Belongs to Her

She lies in her bed with her eyes half open and watches as the room slowly fills with light, the rays gently patterning the gauzy curtains as they stir languidly in the morning breeze. She can hear the birds leaving their nests, flying free to welcome the new day, singing with joy and happiness.

Lately she’s become acutely attuned to morning sounds.

The day is dawning. Her final day. It belongs to her alone. How will she spend it? What choices! The day spa - a few hours of being pampered and blissfully zoned out? Or maybe she will go on a leisurely walking tour of her favourite haunts along the river – coffee at the Mary Ryan Bookshop cafĂ© with Nessie’s delectable cakes, perhaps? Then along to the Caffè Club for a panino al prosciutto? After that, humm, back into the city for a sumptious French High Tea at the Sofitel? She reconsiders. Maybe a bit much for one day! she chuckles. But the first two choices are definitely doable.

She looks out the window. A glorious sunny day. Make the most of it my girl!

She dresses with care in her trendy Nike sportsclothes and snaps on the Colorado shoes that look like ballet flats but are actually trainers. Hair and make up done, she checks herself out in her full-length mirror, turning this way and that.

Not bad, she decides. All that exercise, healthy eating and vitamins look like they have paid off. In her reflection she sees a trim, well-cared-for figure. And a head of bouncy brunette curls. I’m going to be a rebel for once and not wear a hat, she decides. I want to feel the sun beating down on me, activating the life force. She grimaces. Pity about the curls, though. She brushes a little tear from her eye, shakes her head, takes a deep cleansing breath.

She throws her voluminous Louis Vuitton bag over her shoulder, averting her eyes from the smaller bag in the corner. She could swear that it looks accusingly at her every time she enters the room. Oh! Nearly forgot! She snatches the latest Anita Shreve novel from her bedside table. Altitude, she smiles at the name as she flicks the pages, maybe it’ll take me higher. She will read it over coffee. What bliss! She rushes out the door as fast as she is able, ready for her carefree adventure.

***
What a world this is! She sighs as she admires the sleek ferries making their way up and down the river, trailing their wakes behind them like long bridal veils. Maybe I’ll add a ferry ride to my agenda, she muses. She leans over the boardwalk rail, takes a deep breath and inhales the river smell - reedy, thick and brackish. She looks wistfully at a young family on bicycles, heading off on an adventure, chattering happily as they pump the pedals. The mother smiles at her. She nods in acknowledgment, smiling back. Tomorrow I am heading off on an adventure of my own, she whispers.
 


Tomorrow she will leave all this for another, entirely different world.

Tomorrow is out of her control. Tomorrow will be hospitals, doctors, nurses, orders, prodding, jabbing, false hope.

Whatever happens, today belongs to her.

The End

© Denise Covey 2010