A Bump in the Road -- Watty Awards 2011 --

Bump in the Road

Well that’s just fucking wonderful. Nicole muttered as she looked out the window of her office, resting her head on the chilled glass pane that was the object of her vituperation. Leaning her 5’8 size 14 frame sullenly on her office chair, Nicole was suddenly interrupted by the unwelcome view of Jaclynn’s size 2 waist bouncing giddily through the door  as if the freezing rain and sleet was just the greatest think the young intern had ever seen.

Sooo, Ms. Warren, can I like head home now cuz like ya know I’ve got a guy coming over later and the traffics just so yuck out there. Jaclynn finished her inane statement with a snap of her gum and a twirl of her brassy highlighted mane.

Yes Jacylnn you may leave but please just call me Nicole or MS. Warren from now on like we talked about remember? She enunciated the MISS so loudly that the blonde intern even looked up from adjusting her cleavage for a moment.

Sure thing Mrs. Warren was the reply she got as the perky 20 year old breezed out of her office at 2 p.m. into the grey freezing sleet of a Toronto January. It was now 5:30 pm and Nicole had now closed her door and had assumed the position of banging her head softly on the desk.

I’m 32 not 82, she moaned. I could have a life, I am a young, single desirable woman – I could have a date tonight – I could go and and oh what the hell am I thinking when was the last time my Friday night consisted of something more than fuzzy socks and frozen lasagne eaten on the couch.

Eurrhhgh, standing up suddenly and straightening her skirt Nicole headed out from the office, the cold sleet sheeting across her shoulders stinging les than the angry tears coming in sheets from her eyes. Disgusted with herself, Nicole strode on with even more purpose until she finally looked up and saw that she was at her apartment in the heart of downtown toronto. Key in hand, she realized that her fridge was completely barren and that her usual take out would never make the trip in this weather. Heading back out from the icy canopy in front of her building Nicole hurried over to the little market a street over to pick up something for dinner.

Although I suppose missing a meal wouldn’t hurt any Nicole thought as she eyed her thighs, shapely she thought but theres a little too much shape. Having not bothered to run inside and change shoes before heading out into the icy weather, Nicole had only her black leather boots on – an attempt from this morning when trying to amp up her normal wardrobe. I could go out naked and no guy would take another look.

Caught in her bitter reverie, she didn’t even notice the black slick sheet of ice. Pitching forward suddenly Nicole put out both hands to keep herself from falling. It didn’t work as she had hoped, leaving her fairly soaked sprawled on the icy sidewalk as pain and embarrassment flushed her cheeks as red as her palms she had scraped when she hit the pavement. Heavily bundled Torontonians bustled past unseeingly like dumb cattle. Nicole tried to shift herself to a better position, hastily pulling her ruined skirt from its bunched up placement up around her waist. She was hurt and embarrassed and angry, I’m thinking that it’s more likely a Greenpeace activist will come along with a Save-the-Whales poster and stand around me than someone actually stopping to help a damsel in distress, she snorted and was alarmed to find tears smarting in her eyes. She thought miserably as she groped around  and grabbed hold of a newspaper box to try and pull herself up off the ground. However as her foot touched the ground her face whitened to a ghastly shade of grey and she lowered herself back down, wondering how she was ever going to flag a taxi from this position to get her home, nevermind how she was going to get up the several flights of stairs to her apartment and she must look like a drowned rat.

Looking up at the grey skies to stop her mascara streaking even further down her face with frustrated tears, she noticed a dark figure in an overcoat approach her. The man lifted her up with one arm by the waist from the wet pavement. With his other arm the stranger took off his wool overcoat and draped it across her shoulders all the while stabilizing most of her weight with his leg. Are you alright? A voice like you only hear in the movies from a tall, dark superheroes or something like asked in its deep masculine timbre. God, you’re absolutely soaked – do you live near here?