Cyclone

Cyclone

The day was cloudy and blustery, much like her mood.  Her mind blew from one topic to another, with no real destination.  Doctor’s appointments, social functions, cancer treatments and kitty cats.  A tiny cyclone spinning in her head.  The wind blew the back door open, she rose from her desk to close it.  She leaned her head against the cold glass of the window and stared into the nothingness of the grey morning.  Her mind wondered off to the beach, the sun, the waves and smell of the ocean.  The phone rang, pulling her from her sandy retreat.  She answered in her fakest of fake, cheerful office voice.  She puked a little in her mouth as she forced her smile into her voice.  “Hello, how may I help you?”  The old man, with the shaky, frail voice proceeded to explain many ways she may, or may not be able to help him.  The angry wind, picked up his voice and carried it away.  She looked blankly at the phone she hadn’t wanted to answer in the first place.  The wind howled a profanity at her as she hit the off button.  She had decided she couldn’t help the old man anyway. She would let the wind have him.  She walked back to the cold door, leaned against the glass window, let her mind wonder, and found happiness on her beach.

 

 

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