Sarah’s Spell

The cool wind blew across the grey Brooklyn skies and down into the park on a fall afternoon. The earth colored leaves moved randomly a few feet above Sarah’s head as she sat on a park bench. A steady stream of people walked and biked pass her. She had a warm black coffee in her hands, and nothing in particular on her mind.

A handsome couple of 20-somethings sitting across the way caught her eye. A wind gust blew Sarah’s brown and grey hair off to the side. She looked down into her black coffee as her hand’s back and forth motion stirred it. A spell of nostalgia teleported her to another time and place.

A café in Paris on a Winter’s day of 1972. She sat across from a brunette Englishman named John who she had been dating for some time. He was telling her his plans for the future. She felt a relaxing warmth from within as she looked onto his smiling face.

A beach in San Sebastian, Spain on a summer’s day of 1976. Sarah stared at her husband, John as he stared at the sun set. Her only thought was how beautiful he was.

A hospital room in London on a rainy Spring day of 1981. John laid unconscious. Her only thought was on grey and lifeless he looked. She had a dull, metallic feeling in her throat.

The dark apartment where she spent her days alone. Surrounded by shelves of dusty books and furniture that had gone out of style 15 years earlier.

The spell was broken when the young couple across the way got up and moved on with the rest of their lives. Sarah had no particular place to move on to and no particular time to get there. She finished her coffee. Her right knee ached as she got up to her feet. She dropped the empty coffee cup into a near bye trash can, and moved on. She hoped the current novel that she was reading would have a satisfactory ending.


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