Lady in Purple Dress

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A metaphorical day in a woman's life

Submitted: September 26, 2011

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Submitted: September 26, 2011

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She woke up with a disgusted sigh, the alarm was screeching at her, echoing across the room, leaving her no choice but to get off from her warm blanket folds.

The morning sun pierced through the rugged walls of Mumbai buildings, and speared through her dinky window on to the bed spread, making her smooth waxed legs shine. She teasingly ran her fingers on the legs and smiled to herself. They needed this treat; she thought to herself, after all the places they had taken her.

Her hazel eyes unwillingly tracked the “digital-radio-clock”, with ciphers of red, flickering half past seven. She thrust her smooth palms onto the snooze button. The morning foggy glimpse fell up on her room, were complete muddle was parcel of the life; her newly crammed cartons lay in disarray, some oozed out cloths, while others brimmed them. Among them lay a purple t-shirt, it wasn’t the splendor of the dress that drew her eyes, but the reminiscence triggered by a dress, deciding her mood in this vague morning, wasn’t under her sway. But that was what she was going to wear, for she had made up her mind.

Her lukewarm feet slowly kissed the cold floor, tiptoed through the maze of boxes, which she made over the days. It’s been a while since she’s been on the run. The lookout for jobs in the city had flushed out her vigor, to a level of questioning her soul purpose of existence in this world. She could have “nailed” a few jobs out of the interviews, only if it wasn’t for the label of “compromising” which recurrently came up.

Her feet found the wet tiles of the bathroom, the miniature mirror created portraiture of reasonably attractive woman on her late twenties. The pillow fights and hugs, in her timeless dreams, always left the hair tangled in the morning, which fostered her unpretentious beauty. She was pretty, for sure, uncompromising, without doubt. Especially after falling in the well, time after time, with men who try to swim through meaningless pool of pussies, to bell the right cat? She thought. She muddled through the hole every time, by stacking the souvenirs, for sweeter times, and penning down the bitter ones, from her each relationship. But the purple t-shirt was the warmest, for it was the sweetest yet.

“I need this job” looking at the mirror, she spoke to herself, a dominion from the inside. Loud conversations with herself had become a part of her trait over the years. When conflicts within her got louder, she constricted to doing this in the bathroom, were only her and herself could be heard. This became a habit which became harder to break over the years. There were instances where she had to rush out of meeting or crowded corridors into a restroom, not to attend natures call but to speak out her mind, to hear her own thoughts, just to know how it sounds.

The monologue with the mirror had to come to an abrupt ending as the snoozer went off for the second time. Like a zombie possessed, her limp-less posture sprung into life. She needed a long shower, flush out her downbeat dirt, to feel free and refill them with good prospects.

The well commodiously lit waiting room, filled with potential job fillers, crammed her guts inside out. She needed to take one quick last stop at the ladies restroom. Curving her lip, for the lakme stick, she kissed them together, to even out the color. She took one last look at the pretty lady in purple dress, who spoke out “you are good writer, a good painter and intellect, an artist with culture and above all a good orator” “and that’s why you are going to get this job” “a copywriter, like you imagined”, saying so the image on the mirror strolled off the door.

“Why wear purple?” spoke the man in late thirties, who looked out of spot, among the corporate walls, wearing khaki shorts and t-shirt, which bloated out his beer belly.

“Because it makes me feel confidant” answering cautiously to the first question, while she waited eagerly for the next one, for she knew it had to be with purple.

“Did you know who else thought purple brought confidence” he asked, playing with his stubble, his eyes rolling deeper onto the purple she was wearing, trying to uncover the mystery behind.

She waited, realizing that fact, for he wanted to solve his own question, which would make him happier.

“It was Alexander the great, he said I could conquer the whole world but I couldn’t conquer my mind, can you conquer you mind”?

This indisputably was a make or a break question, and her impulse need a wakeup call. She pondered for a second or two and retorted by

“I don’t wish to conquer the world, and hence I can conquer my mind and Alexander lost to India in war as far I know history”

“And why do you think that is?” he meet her eyes for the first time, as his perception was to uncover the purple mystery so far.

“Because he didn’t find the secret of winning India” she waited for his eyebrows to meet and continued “which is to make us fight among ourselves” with brimming confidence in face, for she knew she had played her cards right.

With a heartiest laugh, which made his tummy wobble beneath his T-Shirt, he replied

“That’s something new I have heard in a long time. You are a perfect candidate for the post, you may join our team from next week, but I must warn you, that I am a fan of Alexander, and I need “compromises” for my conquest. Will I win India this time…?”


© Copyright 2019 sreekanth. All rights reserved.

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