Zest Lit Issue 2, October 2013 - Page 176

Frannie’s symmetrical face filled my dreams that night. It was intimate, but not sexual. We took a trip to the Botanical Gardens. Every budding flower amazed her. She lit up at the colors and stopped to take in their scents. Every now and then she would lean over and kiss me on the cheek to thank me for bringing her. Her spirit was one of a twenty year old, not like someone who was close to their mid thirties. It was a mature high school relationship. No life problems bothered us. Simplicity was bliss.

I awoke the next morning alone. Cindy must have already left for a jog. Usually the smallest amount of movement startles me out of my slumber, but not today. I rotated my body towards the nightstand.

‘Morning, Frannie.’ Her license profile seemed to smile back. She really was a beautiful woman. With a yawn and a sigh I got to my feet and began getting ready for work. Frannie kept me company sleeping away in my wallet behind my own license and debit card. Secure in the middle.

Cubical work, as I call it, is meant to be dull. Anyone who works in an enclosed gray box and says they enjoy it is lying. It’s not even a white lie. There is no possible way one truly likes waking up at six am to put in a nine hour day of being belittled and only having a relationship with the computer in front of you. But a job’s a job. Like it or not.

Putting aside the pilling faxes, I tried Googling Francesca Normtin. Over eight hundred pages were found somehow relating to part of the name. I stared at the list. Things to do with track and field popped up, accounting was in there, directors of cities, you name it. My fingers moved the mouse towards the ‘x’ at the top of the screen.