He Has A Built-In Ability

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Invisible Touch: A Story

She floats up the stairs leading to her apartment, a smile dancing across her lips. She doesn’t even realize she’s humming Stevie Wonder’s “Hey Love” until she’s across the threshold of her place. She leans back against the closed door, her ponytail cushioning her head as she slowly, silently, slides to the floor to only let out a shriek!!!  Her legs and arms flail about like Bambi and then she stops, moving hairs away from her sticky forehead.  Clearing her throat and removing her heels she gets up and finds herself looking back at her moonlit reflection. Even she could see the twinkle in her eye. Not looking beside the mirror, she feels up the wall and flicks the switch. She squints to adjust to the sudden light and then it hits her: he’s the one. He’s the one. HE’S THE ONE!!!  She flashdances her way across her bachelor apartment and flops down on her futon while fishing her phone from her pocket. Good God, it’s 4am! She has to be up in two hours and she’s so far past the ninth cloud she doesn’t think she’ll ever settle down to sleep.

*buzz-buzz*

What’s dat?

*buzz-buzz*

Ha! Oh, the phone. She sees a text message. From him! She’ll NEVER forget those 10 sweet numbers in perfect succession:

I DIDN’T THINK THIS WAS POSSIBLE. UNTIL TOMORROW, DARLIN‘”

She reads and re-reads the text message as she undresses with one hand, brushes her teeth and grabs a bottled water from the fridge before tucking herself in for the final hour and 40 minutes before she needs to be up and at ’em. He didn’t think this was possible. She’s the “this.” He didn’t think she was possible! The butterflies in her stomach mutated into hawks and those things were flying – HE FEELS THE SAME WAY!!!  She’s going to try to get at least and hour’s worth of sleep, who knows what they’ll get up to tomorrow night.

One month later…

*buzz-buzz*

What’s dat?

*buzz-buzz*

Oh. The phone. She knows her friends are NOT interrupting her while she’s watching her shows. Putting the jar of fluffernutter down, wipes the marshmallow bits on her scrubs and digs through the laundry basket that is her floor to locate her phone.

6…4…7….? Who da hell?

“HEY DARLIN’, HOW’S IT GOING? IT’S BEEN A MINUTE. :)”

*single blink*

The end.

follow me on Twitter: @bettykiss

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2 responses

  1. Uh, interesting story, I love your way of writing, lots of descriptions, that’s good. yet- I didn’t get the end, can somebody shed some light on this for me please? 🙂

    • Hi David – he never wrote the next day, or the day after that. I didn’t hear back from him until over a month later when he resumed conversation as though he didn’t disappear. And apparently thought, I would be more-than-willing to pick up where things left off.

      That was not the case.

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