"It has been said something as small as the flutter of a butterfly's wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world. - Chaos Theory”
This is known as the Butterfly Effect. It says that even the slightest change of things can have a major effect. And this perhaps is a theory I most believe in.
I'm Jillian, a believer of happy endings, a lover of food, an adventurer willing (and wanting) to go around the world, and a very extrovert person. I am 24 years old, a graduate of interior designing, and currently working at probably one of the biggest corporation there is that relates to realties (Vanguard Corps).
An hour and a half ago, I woke up to find myself late for this year's opening ceremonies for all the employees of VC (Vanguard Corps). If only I had listened to Gianne (my best friend and partner in crime) when she told me to close the book because I had to catch up rest due to the travelling (VC always has these events held out of town because it’s supposed to give the employees a different perspective and would be good for the company), then it could have been easier. But how can you close a book when Prince Charming was sweeping Damsel-in-distress of her feet. During that moment, knowing whether they did end up together is way better than making a good impression on the big people at work. And I cursed myself over and over again when I woke up 5 hours later. Fine, the prince and the damsel did end up together, but I was running late for a very important day.
It's not like I'm going to be fired if I missed the event or if I was late or anything. After all, I had been in the company for over 2 years now and have done a number of splendid works. However, I wanted to start the year right because I was aiming for a promotion. The position wasn't that high up or added another zero to my salary, but it meant being able to cut back on the hours I spent at the office and being more of a "free lance" agent. And making a good impression on the first get together of all the employees is step one on that promotion.
A half hour ago, I was ready to go. I was wearing my black "party" dress which is more back than dress if you think about it, with my red leather jacket that covers up for the lack of back of the dress, and my kick-ass red 4-inch stiletto heels. My black purse had everything I could possibly imagine that I needed, my keys, my phone, my wallet, my IDs, even a pair of socks (just in case). As I closed the door to room 311 of Hotel Matte (VC had us all in one hotel so announcements can be done easily for the event which is a 5-minute drive from here), Gianne was rushing down the hallway towards me. And my first instinct was that something is wrong, which of course is right. On her way to lobby, walking gracefully as ever, her dress caught some wire or something and ripped. And being her best friend, if I had an extra dress that I can lend her since she did not have any of that sort. Thank her lucky star I did have a spare dress but dressing her up and fixing her hair took 15 minutes of what already is a depleted resource called time.
The 5-minute drive turned to a 10-minute drive because of the unforeseen traffic by people who, like me, are making an extra effort to make it on time. At exactly 6:57, Gianne and I arrived at the event that’s supposed to start at 7 PM. I had 3 more minutes to socialize with the people who I’m supposed to make an impression before we get seated on designated tables with people from our own little worlds.
And this is where you’ll find me right now, resigned from the idea of making a good impression in 3 minutes. I made my way to the table where you get your name and the table that you seat on. And in that moment, as I reached up to the card with a “Jillian Caster” neatly written over it, was when a hand brushed mine. Now imagine if I did close that book about 7 hours ago, woke up at the right time, got here with a lot of time to socialize, and gotten the card earlier than right now. If that had happened, the back of my hand wouldn’t be touching the back of the hand of this stranger.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Here, let me get it for you – “ he reads the card before handing it to me “Jillian.”
“Thank you, Mr. uhhh…” I looked up at him, being met by gray eyes that are glass like.
“Call me Nathan” He said with a smile in his face and a hand reaching out to shake mine.
Not bad for a 3-minute socialization, thinking to myself with a coy smile.
YOU ARE READING
Wishful Thinking
RomanceA story about timing, chance, and luck. Is there really such a thing as a perfect timing? Or is it just about making things work out? Do second chances ever mean anything? Or are they simply an excuse to make the same mistakes again? Are fate and de...
