Post by brygida płużanka on Oct 16, 2009 22:59:24 GMT -5
I want to be forgotten; and I don't want to be reminded. So please don't make this harder...
One would assume that a beautiful teenage girl sauntering past high end boutiques with formal office attire on would be a carefree, naive young heiress to her daddy's law firm. But assumptions about people are rather dense things. They could be, and usually always are, incorrect and penalize you in some way. This is another one of those assumptions. The female we see lives in the destitute regions of this city of diversity. She works as a secretary to an upscale lawyer who has a soft side, and is only passing by these shops due to the fact it is her way home. Her facade of a carefree manner was oh so well masked. In all reality, the girl was incredibly hungry, the faint blush on her cheeks was caused by her stomach growling audibly whenever she passed a petite bistro where women with flutes of champagne tittered with their fake little friends and enjoying their fake little lives to the absolute fullest. The girl sighed, her coffee hued eyes fatigued and lifeless. Taking another pained step, the blisters from her heels stung on her skin like hot needles. Oh, how I need to get out of these shoes.... She thought, as she looked to her purse. Smiling faintly, she remembered that a percent of her paycheck had been cashed for any needs of hers. The urge to go to a bistro persisted in her mind; the thought pulling at her like invisible strings controlling the dainty marionette to her desires. Letting her feet take her to her destination, not her brain, she arrived at The Captain's Table. Which, of course, was one of the finer restaurants in the area. Pursing her petite lips, our marionette timidly walked into the fine dining establishment. She pulled some extra hair out of her face, and walked up to the waiter's booth. A young male waiter welcomed her and asked "A table for one, miss?" The girl slowly nodded, looking down a bit, and politely murmured "Yes; thank you." Her waiter led her to an outside table with some wrought iron chairs and a matching table. The view from her position was magnificent. Her eyes swept across the scenery, soaking in the shimmering water, aching to be that woman who is dress nautically, madly in love with her man, and as filthy rich as El Dorado itself. Far too infatuated with the sights, she was caught off guard when her waiter returned. His monotonous voice mumbled "What would you like for a beverage, miss?" The girl glances up at him, inhaled the icy scent of his cologne, and replied "An un-alcoholic Pina Colada would be quite fitting at the moment, thank you." The waiter turned around, what looked like a smirk upon his face, and walked off, getting the young lady her beverage. Pulling her work phone, a Blackberry, out of her purse, she dialed the number to her aunt's work. After two rings of the dial tone, a woman answered, her voice as infectiously fragrant as red wine and as smooth as silk. "Good afternoon, Sheffield Insurance Agency, Maria speaking. How may I help you today?" The girl gave a faint smile at the greeting she got every afternoon when she called, she replied "It's me, Ciocia." Along with being sophisticated sounding, her voice had a faint European accent that was noticeable when her emotions were in play. Mad, sad, jubilant, it did not matter. Maria gave a sighing laugh and chirped "Brygida, my dear; how are you this fine afternoon?" Brygida, the girl, smiled and giggled "Pretty well. I am at the Captain's table." Her aunt whistled slowly, expressing surprise. "Paycheck nice today, love?" Brygida replied "The same. But I felt like a treat would be nice today."
Their conversation lasted for about two minutes until Brygida saw the waiter coming back, an odd look in his icy blue eyes. He handed her the icy drink, and took her order of Pasta Primavera. He kept looking at her if he was the hungry one, ordering his grand meal. A tingle of embarrassment trickled down from the middle of her head to the bottom of her spine. He left, much to the relief of her, and she went back to enjoying the waterfront. But she had to wonder; Why was he looking at me? I'm not as pretty as the other teenage girls here, giggling charismatically and silently begging for his glances. It's so confusing.... She pursed her lips, knit her eyebrows, and contemplated many things in absolute silence.
What Ever Happened - The Strokes
One would assume that a beautiful teenage girl sauntering past high end boutiques with formal office attire on would be a carefree, naive young heiress to her daddy's law firm. But assumptions about people are rather dense things. They could be, and usually always are, incorrect and penalize you in some way. This is another one of those assumptions. The female we see lives in the destitute regions of this city of diversity. She works as a secretary to an upscale lawyer who has a soft side, and is only passing by these shops due to the fact it is her way home. Her facade of a carefree manner was oh so well masked. In all reality, the girl was incredibly hungry, the faint blush on her cheeks was caused by her stomach growling audibly whenever she passed a petite bistro where women with flutes of champagne tittered with their fake little friends and enjoying their fake little lives to the absolute fullest. The girl sighed, her coffee hued eyes fatigued and lifeless. Taking another pained step, the blisters from her heels stung on her skin like hot needles. Oh, how I need to get out of these shoes.... She thought, as she looked to her purse. Smiling faintly, she remembered that a percent of her paycheck had been cashed for any needs of hers. The urge to go to a bistro persisted in her mind; the thought pulling at her like invisible strings controlling the dainty marionette to her desires. Letting her feet take her to her destination, not her brain, she arrived at The Captain's Table. Which, of course, was one of the finer restaurants in the area. Pursing her petite lips, our marionette timidly walked into the fine dining establishment. She pulled some extra hair out of her face, and walked up to the waiter's booth. A young male waiter welcomed her and asked "A table for one, miss?" The girl slowly nodded, looking down a bit, and politely murmured "Yes; thank you." Her waiter led her to an outside table with some wrought iron chairs and a matching table. The view from her position was magnificent. Her eyes swept across the scenery, soaking in the shimmering water, aching to be that woman who is dress nautically, madly in love with her man, and as filthy rich as El Dorado itself. Far too infatuated with the sights, she was caught off guard when her waiter returned. His monotonous voice mumbled "What would you like for a beverage, miss?" The girl glances up at him, inhaled the icy scent of his cologne, and replied "An un-alcoholic Pina Colada would be quite fitting at the moment, thank you." The waiter turned around, what looked like a smirk upon his face, and walked off, getting the young lady her beverage. Pulling her work phone, a Blackberry, out of her purse, she dialed the number to her aunt's work. After two rings of the dial tone, a woman answered, her voice as infectiously fragrant as red wine and as smooth as silk. "Good afternoon, Sheffield Insurance Agency, Maria speaking. How may I help you today?" The girl gave a faint smile at the greeting she got every afternoon when she called, she replied "It's me, Ciocia." Along with being sophisticated sounding, her voice had a faint European accent that was noticeable when her emotions were in play. Mad, sad, jubilant, it did not matter. Maria gave a sighing laugh and chirped "Brygida, my dear; how are you this fine afternoon?" Brygida, the girl, smiled and giggled "Pretty well. I am at the Captain's table." Her aunt whistled slowly, expressing surprise. "Paycheck nice today, love?" Brygida replied "The same. But I felt like a treat would be nice today."
Their conversation lasted for about two minutes until Brygida saw the waiter coming back, an odd look in his icy blue eyes. He handed her the icy drink, and took her order of Pasta Primavera. He kept looking at her if he was the hungry one, ordering his grand meal. A tingle of embarrassment trickled down from the middle of her head to the bottom of her spine. He left, much to the relief of her, and she went back to enjoying the waterfront. But she had to wonder; Why was he looking at me? I'm not as pretty as the other teenage girls here, giggling charismatically and silently begging for his glances. It's so confusing.... She pursed her lips, knit her eyebrows, and contemplated many things in absolute silence.
