Brief writing exercises and thoughts on writing. Maybe the occasional personal musing.
|
I parked my car in one of the visitor spots and turned off the engine. As I approached Jacob’s townhouse, he stepped out the front door and closed it behind himself. We met each other on the sidewalk and we exchanged a brief kiss. I stepped back a foot or two, running my hand along his arm before dropping it to my side. “How was your day?” “Good. I took the afternoon off, so it was quite nice. It gave me time to get ready for our date tonight.” I gave him a quizzical look. “That’s a lot of time for a shower and shave.” “Yes, it is,” he said, grinning impishly. He took my hand and started leading me back toward his home. I grew more confused. “Aren’t we going to dinner?” “I have a surprise I want to show you first.” He stopped as we reached the bottom stair of his front stoop. He guided me to stand in front of him then placed his hands over my eyes, blocking my vision. “Jacob? What are you doing?” “You’ll see. There are three steps up, remember? Let’s go.” I sighed. In the three weeks that we had been dating, I had learned it was easier to humor him when he was feeling impish. I began to step forward, and he kept close behind me, making sure my eyes remained covered. I carefully dragged my foot along the front of each step, then stepped up onto it. As I reached the top, I heard classical music -- I suspected it was Mozart -- playing faintly. As we entered the house, I got a sense of less light slipping through the spaces between his fingers. “Just a few more steps forward,” he said. I obliged and heard him use his foot to swing the door shut behind us. He dropped his hands and I looked around, blinking. The only light in the whole house came from about a dozen flames, most of them coming from tea-lights carefully placed on various surfaces throughout his living room. He pointed and I turned my eyes in the direction of his gaze. A small circular coffee table sat just in front of his couch, with two cushions on opposite sides. A square tablecloth covered most of the table’s surface. In the center stood a single red column candle. A plate, wine glass and silverware had been set in front of each cushion. “This is amazing,” I said. “Hopefully, you feel the same way about my chicken cordon blue,” he said, as he stepped next to me and took my hand. “I wanted to do something special for you today.” JarredH Our tears remind us that we're alive. Our laughter reminds us why. |