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Missed Opportunity and a Look Back

Short story By: Demetrius
Other



Okay, when you read this, you could read it as a very literal piece and take it for a guy having a crush on a girl or being instantly attracted to someone and wanting to introduce themselves, or talk to her, but fails to do so because he's too afraid, or you could look at it as someone missing "opportunity" in general and was presented with the chance, it being right in front of your face, right next to you, and the feeling you get when you lose it, wanting to just disappear or what have you. So, it's symbolic/figurative, as well as literal. I meant it as both.


Submitted:Jun 24, 2008    Reads: 148    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


Missed Opportunity and a Look Back
Wow! There she goes! I see her enter the room, me sitting on the other side, against the wall. Oh! Here she comes! She sees me! …But only for a second, she veering off to the left, the smell of her perfume introducing her to me faster than she could (not that she ever would), as Perfection! For a brief moment, I float on a euphoric high, the olfactory glands slipping into a frenzied state of sensory overload.
I study her as soon as I gather myself, picking my eyes (and jaw), up off the floor. She is right beside me now, putting food on a plate better than anyone ever could!! Enamored with her, it is hard to act - hard to act on the perturbing idea to introduce myself and just talk to her. I swallow, forcing my way pass the huge knot sitting in my throat.
I sit there, paralyzed; and in that second, I understand how someone who is newly-confined to a wheelchair, realizes and sees for the first time that their dream of becoming a professional athlete, a NORMAL professional athlete, is no more. But this - this is much worse, isn't it?! Because I always have it worse than the next person. ALWAYS! And nobody can tell me differently…for it is gone…SHE is gone! Opportunity was her name, and I missed her, she so close I could touch her, leaving sooner than she actually ever does, for the striking, appealing, figure glances at me with soulful, smiling eyes. There, floating within those depths, can be found prospects, hopes, dreams, and inspirations. Turning on the balls of her feet, with plate in hand, she finally DOES head off, back from where she came.
Yes! There she goes! And there she has gone…And as soon as she leaves the room, I become the strongest, bravest, coolest manly-man ever!! But then, I realize she really isn't here anymore. And neither am I, for I am a shell, a cadaver, and the only thing I organically experience is the lingering scent of her "Perfection", revisited, with a "Nightmare-Before-Christmas" twist, noxious and rotten, better known now as "Regret". Her essence has soured. And at that very moment, I die, slipping back into the cold and dark womb of nonexistence…alone. And forgotten.




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