A young literature student is suddenly pulled off from her fantasy world as she encounters the dark realities of the man she hopes to build her never never land with
Some truths we try to evade comes with daggering ends.
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The long elevator ride up the clowd piercing building finally ushered us into lofty glass walls that sprawled in reverential lengths. Marching a few steps down the vinyl floors that reflected our figures, an alarming shrill announced my unidentified presence. He configured the machine while I swept my savouring gaze across the compartment and the awakening lights that began beaming from the tray ceilings the moment we stepped in.
A couple of seettes gathered around the squares of a cream-colored silk rug, accompanying a dark marbled glass table in their misial array. The air carried a luxurious scent that was synonymous to that of mahogany and peaches.
"Hungry?" he mumbled from behind me.
"Are you kidding me? We just returned from your family dinner"
"And I also remember interrupting you from finishing your meal" he pressed
"I barely touched the second plate because I'm so stuffed"
"Alright. Some wine perhaps?"
"Wine sounds lovely"
He disappeared into an entrance that was shielded by a hoary wall-etched pillar, allowing me to resume my watchful gaze over the floating pixels of lights that glimmered from the outlying sky lancing edifices.
It thrilled and as well frightened me to see the world from a ridged point of view, taking my stance as my very own little heaven. I usually assumed Manhattan to be the more contemporary reflection of Oxford city. Well that 'assumption' hasn't changed. 'Lisa would love this' a subconscious nudged the sudden thought to my cognition.
I immediately ran anxious fingers into my purse to grab my phone. No missed calls. That's a surprise, not having Lisa mummy over me this time.
Wait!
Hassan handed me the new phone when we got to Manhattan. He must have switched the sim cards. Shit!
I quickly booted on my old phone and retrieving Lisa's number from it, I dialed the figures into the call keypad. The prolonged beep indicated an unhitched network connection to her phone, before a slight line crack introduced her muffled tired tone.
"Hello?" I could hardly clarify if it was irritation or exhaustion that clouded her voice.
"Hi Lisa, it's Soma."
"Soma? Where the hell have you been? And why are you reaching me with a foreign number?"
right! she's on tenterhooks.
"I'm sorry, I should have phoned earlier. It hardly occoured to me that I'd be unreachable when I got to Manhattan and the sim on my new phone is bearing foreign configurations"
"I'm sorry you're where?"
"New York."
"But you usually tell me about your trips with professor... what's his name again? Before you embark on them. I've been trying to reach you for over twelve hours."
