Short story inspired by playing cards.
Standing in the lobby of a famous hotel, she fiddled with the card in her hand. It was the queen of hearts, and it meant the world to her. It had been her grandmother's card, her grandfather had painted it. They both now lay six feet under two states away resting in the same grave side by side, as they had been their entire life. She had always wished for love like theirs, always wished she could find someone who loved her for her, and would do kind things for her, and she could do kind things for them.
A man walked in and stood beside her, they were in silence for mere moments before he spoke up and introduced himself, she gave her name in return and they fell back into a comfortable silence. She turned the card over and studied the back, her gaze running over each line, and dip. She could not see the colour of the card, not due to it wearing away, but due to the blindness her eyes held for such sights. She turned to the man, and requested he tell her the colour of the card, he looked at it, but did not answer.
There was only the sound of a clock ticking on the wall, and the occasional honk of a horn form outside of the lavish hotel lobby. They were alone, the two, until finally a woman came through a door to the side of the girl, and called her name. The card was slipped back into her wallet, where it was kept safe, and she walked through the door so the man was alone. He stood there a moment hardly even thinking, before he began to think of the card that girl had been holding. He had seen it before, he was sure. Perhaps though it had been his mind playing tricks, so he let the thought be, and began to ponder on what his wife would make him for dinner that night.
The girl once more stood in the lobby, she had been told to wait, that the person she had come to see had not yet arrived, and that she had only been required to fill a few papers before he showed up. The man stood beside her again, and asked to see her card. She obliged, and let him hold it as he studied the detailed artwork. Minutes ticked by and the sound of the clock was becoming to sound strangely therapeutic to the two before the girl was once more called in. She was stopped this time from entering the room beyond that door, by the man calling out her name.
She stared at him a moment, before he stepped forward and placed her Grandmother's card in her hand. He told her the colour, and her heart sped up. Such a lucky colour that she held in her hand, yet she could not see it. She knew then, that her chances of getting the job she was after were now made greater. She thanked the man, and he smiled, before going back to his spot in the lobby, and she turned to greet her luck. Thanking her Grandfather for loving her Grandmother so much. Thanking her Grandmother, for handing the card down to her.
Leaving the hotel the girl saw him. The man who'd told her the colour. She caught a taxi with him, and he asked her how it went. She only smiled to him, and held her card up so he could see. She knew it was not the card that gave her success, but the calmness the man had brought her beforehand. She thanked him. Told him the colour that he had told her, and thanked him again. He smiled back to her, and they reached her home. They parted ways then, knowing they would likely never see each other again, but pleased to have met, even that one time. The card did not leave the taxi though with her, he found it as he was about to get out, and took it from the worn seat.
It was years later, when they had all but forgotten each other, a woman and a man, ran into each other in a famous hotel lobby, and a single card, the queen of hearts, floated down to rest between them.
