Flights of Fancy

In Fiction, The Daily Drool on September 4, 2009 at 7:32 am

It was written in the clouds – literally- She had no idea how he’d done it, but as the little plane dipped and soared above the horizon the sun sparkled and shone upon the misty sentence : “Come home, Sasha”  and after it, his heart.  How it was faring at this altitude she was afraid to wonder, but he’d sent it to her shivering, delicate, and stubborn, all the same.

It hadn’t been that long, she thought, since they’d last kissed.  Riddled with doubt about his intentions she’d asked the fateful question “Are you honorable?” To which his tangled tongue’d had no reply.  She would have to rely on her heart’s intuitions on this one, and that was something she’d never been any good at.  How could one trust such a weak thing as one’s heart?  Lifting her tail and running, now that made sense.

How was it that he’d found such strength in his when it had been she who’d been so steadfast in the courtship?  Was it merely a matter of the time and space she’d left in her stead echoing back at him “Chase her” or had it been there all along, loud and clear except for the looking?  As though her ears had been tuned to such a presumptive tonality that she’d missed what he’d been singing all the while?

But this spelling in the sky… well, that was a different game altogether.

She looked around with hushed eyes.  Had anyone else seen?  Surely there were rules about such things – about bombarding your lover with valentines in the sky when she was quite peacefully trying to take a vacation.    It was bad enough he hadn’t left her mind even for a moment once she’d gone… not even to let her enjoy her salmon dinner in peace the night prior.  She’d ordered a lovely glass of wine – the first of many- to accompany the sweetly glazed piece of pink decorating her plate, and leaned over the delicacy with fork raised only to remember how heartily he’d laughed at her the first time she’d seen one swimming.

It had been the season to head upstream and no one had told her they would be   jumping out of the waters like miniature rockets. She had almost feinted with the surprise and he’d laughed about it the whole way home.  It was so lovely outside though, the sun sparkling, the air arching, that each breathe had twinkled in his mirthful eyes and she’d not bothered to pretend to be hurt that he was laughing at her.

All of this remembered in an instant, and she, left holding her mouth open mid-bite, paralyzed by the want to go back there.

How frustrating that he could continue to creep in like that and disrupt the making of these new “Sasha” memories… memories that would last a lifetime and require no twinge from her wreckless heart… except that she couldn’t seem to get more than ten minutes into any of them without wishing he was there beside her in their baking.

It had been an honest enough idea- pack her bags and cash in on that hefty settlement- the one she’d received in exchange for two months uncomfortable labor at the mercy of a lecherous boss. She’d no idea he’d been snapping pictures up her skirt from the webcam he’d placed beneath her desk.  She had been shocked when she’d discovered he kept a most lascivious screensaver, horrified when she’d noticed a familiar pair of panties staring back at her from the melee.  Of course he pleaded mercy as the evils of a challenging marriage had driven him to taking extreme measures. It was a heartbreak to be facing a sexual tundra without hope for an affair as a fifty year old man with nary a hair left on his head such as he would never successfully get laid in today’s materialistic market.

The jury hadn’t felt sorry for him though.  Sasha had almost felt guilty cashing the fifty-thousand dollar check with his miserable name on it; those panties had only cost her three dollars.

The stewardess leaned down to offer her a steamed towel (Sasha felt less guilty about flying first class once she’d learned about the steamed towels) and all but choked when she saw the clouds outside.  Shaking her head just enough to blur the line between “im” and “possible”, the stewardess peeked outside again, but Daniel’s heart, having sensed the danger, had already zipped off towards the safety of skin and bone, its mission artfully accomplished.  Sasha, rattled from the suddenness of this new affection merely smiled at the woman and asked that she might get her another miniature bottle of rum to wash down her own heart which had leapt to her throat in the hopes of following his.

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