LETTER TO ME: (New Series)
LETTER TO ME
Welcome everyone, to today's "letter" - quoted because you won't be reading any letter today... Or in the next few weeks. No.
I would be telling you a story. One I believe you'd enjoy. And at some point, you may even get to determine how the story goes. Until then, I'll be your humble narrator. Sit back, enjoy, and let me know what you think in the comments. I'll see you next week đ.
PS: Characters, events and settings are a fiction of the writer's imagination. Any resemblance to person(s) or circumstances are purely coincidental.
â˘
Jane sat quietly at the restaurant and observed her surroundings. This was a place she had never been to, and so she had thought it best to come at least an hour before her date to get familiar with the place. But nothing could ever be familiar. No restaurant she had visited in the last seventeen months had been familiar. Arnold never let them be. He always made them go to a new restaurant every time they went on a date. Not that she was complaining. She liked the thrill of the unfamiliar. It made for a fresh new experience every time, and new memories too.
âCan I get you something Maâamâ? One of the waiters asked. Such proper tone, she thought. She couldnât remember the last time a waiter had addressed her as âMaâamâ, except the few times herself and Arnold had visited foreign owned restaurants in the area. Or that one time they went on a road trip and stopped at a British diner. It was such a romantic weekend. Just me, Arnold and the open road, nothing else, she thought.
Her lips curved in a smile, as she reminisced, forgetting the young man in front of her, in his pristine white shirt, and an apron around his neck.
âMaâamâ the waiter called out again, interrupting Janeâs musings.
âOh, Iâm sorry. No, thank youâ she chuckled âIâm waiting for my boyfriend, heâll be here soonâ
âWater, thenâ? He probed. It was then she realized she had already finished the glass of water sheâd been offered before.
âWater will be just fine, thank youâ. The young man nodded and strode away. She figured sheâd be needing lots of glasses of water before the date was over. This was not going to be an ordinary date. She was happy to be having lunch with Arnold. But therein was the problem. She was happy. Not excited, not elated, not enthusiastic. Just happy. She wasnât even anxious like she had been when he had asked to see her again after that first chance meeting over a year ago.
Sheâd just been admitted to the Imperial College to study Behavioral Psychology. Having never been to the area, she decided she would take a walk around the campus, and then from there to St. Jamesâ Park about two blocks away from her school. Somehow, sheâd made it to the park, but couldnât remember in what direction home was. It was then sheâd asked a fine man in a grey coat to help her find home. Strangely, it didnât occur to her to just search the map on her phone. Maybe she had, but had felt safer having a person direct her. He agreed to walk her back to her dorm and heâd done so without his eyes perusing all her features. He kept his eyes on hers through the conversation and never let them wander. He was an investment banker and had graduated from the Imperial College himself.
He made her laugh, gave her a quick brief history of the school and had assured her she wouldnât love it anywhere else. They talked all the way until he brought her to her dorm. It was then he asked if he could see her again. Jane remembered how sheâd blushed and shyly wrote her number on his card, mouthing call me. Sheâd never been so excited to be a girl, and have a fine man take appropriate interest in her. That single meet formed the foundations of what became their relationship. She was now in her sophomore year, and he had risen to become branch manager of the bank he worked at.
While things had gone good for them both individually, she couldnât say the same for their relationship. She had everything Arnold could provide, but not him.
She knew he loved her, or tried to show he did. But she felt like a trophy on display. She felt trapped in the relationship, like he wasnât here, but she couldnât leave. And she had tried many times to tell him her fears but he never understood. He responded instead, by providing more things.
She made up her mind this date was the last time she would say anything to him, and if this was the end, so be it. And then not minding where she was, Jane bowed her head to pray.
*
Up in the sky where the birds flew, a majestic being flew past, with large wings not like anything any man had ever seen. And as its form caught the bright sunlight, its image came into full view. This was no bird or aircraft, no. This was an Angel.
Not that any man would have seen him. But the birds seemed to. For as they flew, they made a path, and seemed to only glide, until he had passed them. Mighty gusts of wind followed every flap of his huge wings as he flew towards the restaurant, clutching a sword that seemed to be on fire.
As he landed slowly in front, his wings seemed to fold backwards and disappear. His blinding white raiment, changed into regular menâs clothes. He looked around as though he waited for someone. He was solidly built and looked almost like an Italian, with dark hair, combed backwards.
He strode into the restaurant and scanned, hidden from the eyes of men. He had been given a new charge, an assignment.
And there she was, in fervent prayers.
Welcome everyone, to today's "letter" - quoted because you won't be reading any letter today... Or in the next few weeks. No.
I would be telling you a story. One I believe you'd enjoy. And at some point, you may even get to determine how the story goes. Until then, I'll be your humble narrator. Sit back, enjoy, and let me know what you think in the comments. I'll see you next week đ.
PS: Characters, events and settings are a fiction of the writer's imagination. Any resemblance to person(s) or circumstances are purely coincidental.
â˘
Jane sat quietly at the restaurant and observed her surroundings. This was a place she had never been to, and so she had thought it best to come at least an hour before her date to get familiar with the place. But nothing could ever be familiar. No restaurant she had visited in the last seventeen months had been familiar. Arnold never let them be. He always made them go to a new restaurant every time they went on a date. Not that she was complaining. She liked the thrill of the unfamiliar. It made for a fresh new experience every time, and new memories too.
âCan I get you something Maâamâ? One of the waiters asked. Such proper tone, she thought. She couldnât remember the last time a waiter had addressed her as âMaâamâ, except the few times herself and Arnold had visited foreign owned restaurants in the area. Or that one time they went on a road trip and stopped at a British diner. It was such a romantic weekend. Just me, Arnold and the open road, nothing else, she thought.
Her lips curved in a smile, as she reminisced, forgetting the young man in front of her, in his pristine white shirt, and an apron around his neck.
âMaâamâ the waiter called out again, interrupting Janeâs musings.
âOh, Iâm sorry. No, thank youâ she chuckled âIâm waiting for my boyfriend, heâll be here soonâ
âWater, thenâ? He probed. It was then she realized she had already finished the glass of water sheâd been offered before.
âWater will be just fine, thank youâ. The young man nodded and strode away. She figured sheâd be needing lots of glasses of water before the date was over. This was not going to be an ordinary date. She was happy to be having lunch with Arnold. But therein was the problem. She was happy. Not excited, not elated, not enthusiastic. Just happy. She wasnât even anxious like she had been when he had asked to see her again after that first chance meeting over a year ago.
Sheâd just been admitted to the Imperial College to study Behavioral Psychology. Having never been to the area, she decided she would take a walk around the campus, and then from there to St. Jamesâ Park about two blocks away from her school. Somehow, sheâd made it to the park, but couldnât remember in what direction home was. It was then sheâd asked a fine man in a grey coat to help her find home. Strangely, it didnât occur to her to just search the map on her phone. Maybe she had, but had felt safer having a person direct her. He agreed to walk her back to her dorm and heâd done so without his eyes perusing all her features. He kept his eyes on hers through the conversation and never let them wander. He was an investment banker and had graduated from the Imperial College himself.
He made her laugh, gave her a quick brief history of the school and had assured her she wouldnât love it anywhere else. They talked all the way until he brought her to her dorm. It was then he asked if he could see her again. Jane remembered how sheâd blushed and shyly wrote her number on his card, mouthing call me. Sheâd never been so excited to be a girl, and have a fine man take appropriate interest in her. That single meet formed the foundations of what became their relationship. She was now in her sophomore year, and he had risen to become branch manager of the bank he worked at.
While things had gone good for them both individually, she couldnât say the same for their relationship. She had everything Arnold could provide, but not him.
She knew he loved her, or tried to show he did. But she felt like a trophy on display. She felt trapped in the relationship, like he wasnât here, but she couldnât leave. And she had tried many times to tell him her fears but he never understood. He responded instead, by providing more things.
She made up her mind this date was the last time she would say anything to him, and if this was the end, so be it. And then not minding where she was, Jane bowed her head to pray.
*
Up in the sky where the birds flew, a majestic being flew past, with large wings not like anything any man had ever seen. And as its form caught the bright sunlight, its image came into full view. This was no bird or aircraft, no. This was an Angel.
Not that any man would have seen him. But the birds seemed to. For as they flew, they made a path, and seemed to only glide, until he had passed them. Mighty gusts of wind followed every flap of his huge wings as he flew towards the restaurant, clutching a sword that seemed to be on fire.
As he landed slowly in front, his wings seemed to fold backwards and disappear. His blinding white raiment, changed into regular menâs clothes. He looked around as though he waited for someone. He was solidly built and looked almost like an Italian, with dark hair, combed backwards.
He strode into the restaurant and scanned, hidden from the eyes of men. He had been given a new charge, an assignment.
And there she was, in fervent prayers.
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