CHOICES #Wattys2016 #Hidden Gems

Chapter 1

Vincent Marcos walked disconsolately down the street thinking about the spat he'd just had with his wife as he left for work. They had occurred more frequently in the past few years and he took it as a sign that they had left the rails at some point.

For the most part their life together was a pleasurable existence of similar interests, joint activities and financial balance. Whatever had soured that picture had done so slowly and insidiously.

He also thought about how he seemed to have lost touch with the emerging world of his two children, Allen 17, and Tina 20. At forty years of age, he figured he should be the man in charge, the rock, the captain that holds the answers and steers his family's course with a sure hand.

At forty years of age Vincent Marcos was none of these any more; he was a hapless drifting husband and father with a heavy burden of depression over his domestic and work failures. Recently, life seemed to love to deke Vincent at every turn leaving him completely at sea when focus and conviction mattered most.

This latest tiff with his wife, Maria, grew from a disagreement over the innocuous subject of a grocery, shopping day, to a much larger and darker conflict over personal traits and marital commitment. Vincent had fled under a barrage of accusations, seeking the less volatile but equally discouraging setting of his workplace.

Now here he was at the bus stop, thinking again how life was using every mean tactic to thwart his happiness.

On the commitment side, the affair had been a monumental error and to make things worse, Maria had somehow known; a facet that women seemed to intrinsically possess. The mistake cost him his job, a position of potential growth in a busy advertising company.

It had forced him to find the only available employment with any kind of recompense, behind the counter of a hardware supply store, at less than half the money he was previously earning. Vincent reached the bus stop and began pacing as he waited for his ride, his mind totally focused on his plight.

A man came along and stood in Vincent's path, leaning out and watching for the bus. Vincent made an annoyed grunt and changed course, pacing slowly back up the street, kicking at the autumn leaves gathering on the sidewalk. He turned once more with a small flourish, his jaw set and his determination grim, determined to take life by the throat and give it a good shaking.

The man had moved forward, once again in his way as the bus arrived, and Vincent's foot slipped off the curb, arms flailing to keep balance, resembling an effort to fly—which he did—straight down the street on the front of the screeching vehicle.

******

The bright light made him squint and he raised his hand to shade his eyes. He paused, glancing at the sleeve of his jacket. Instead of the tweed sports jacket he'd put on that morning, the sleeve was part of a full-length robe in a soft, whipped cream white, lightweight material. Everything was white.

Vincent opened his eyes wider, finding that the light didn't bother him any more and he sat up, looking around. The room was large and had no ceiling but it seemed to have a dimension and when he began to walk around, he discovered that there was no sensation of anything solid beneath his feet.

Two large white chairs sat facing each other with a small table between them and aside from that, there didn't seem to be any other furnishings or decoration in the odd space.

"Welcome to our Reflection Lounge." The voice startled him and he looked about, puzzled. There was no one in sight. "Why don't you take a seat by the table." The deep resonance of the voice filled the strange space with a comforting vibration and Vincent automatically obeyed, choosing a seat and sitting down.