Thomas on a Yellow Day

November 29, 2010
Thomas wasn't sure what it was that initially drew him to her. Perhaps it was because she was beautiful, but it was probably because she was his total opposite. He wished he could stand so proudly, speak so easily to the man she ordered a coffee from.
Not that Thomas was completely inept at socializing. In fact he was far better than he realized at such things. He was attractive, sitting in a tasteful suit with an equally (if not more so) tasteful tie, and leather shoes. His hair was handsomely uncared for and his face was far better looking than what he saw in the mirror.
Thomas sat in muffled admiration as the beautiful stranger walked away... as he was beginning to notice women often did. As she was walking through the door, she turned and her eyes fastened to his. She threw a simple smile over her shoulder that fell into his lap. He hurried to catch that perfect smile, to hold it forever as his own, but it had faded away in the same manner as the woman who gave it to him. With no more than a second of contemplation, he sprung from his coffee table; leaving behind the four dollar latte he considered a daily indulgence.
Then they were together, accompanied by a yellow day, a flock of people, and a collection of buildings that tickled the clouds. She was all he saw. The wind and the sun danced in her hair until it was fire in the summer. He followed her.
It was after about a minute of walking that Thomas realized the absurdity of his action. What business did he have to follow this beautiful woman? And what, exactly, did he plan to do once he caught up?
The woman turned around then, and noticed Thomas. And for a fading moment, recognition lit her eyes. He decided that if those eyes were a room, it would have a fire place and velvet armchairs and windows with grand, closed tapestries. They were a nice accompaniment to her smile. Then she had turned and was walking away once more, until she fluidly became the setting sun onto the horizon of the city sidewalk.
Thomas stood for a moment, then began collecting the pieces of a premature dream littering the ground. He looked to a regal blue sky and decided he needed another latte.





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