The Inconspicious Twist of Fate

C6 - P1

Isolde had snapped out of her time travel with a violent shudder. In a second she was brought back to her reality, the cold present.

The mild rain had turned into a hefty thunderstorm as thousands of crystalline droplets hit the ground and wrapped her in a deafening chaos.

Isolde's hair had turned wet, weighed down by the water, and her once curly bangs now adhered flat to her forehead.

Her clothes stuck to her like a second skin, heavy and drenched. Underneath her legs she found the rain had pooled in a muddy puddle, and her shoes filled up with water.

In short she was soaked to the bones.

She stood up, her nose red as water dripped off the tip of it, and tiny raindrops caught in her lashes.

She walked through the emptying streets, headed towards the bus stop.

As she awaited the vehicle to pull up, her phone rang somewhere deep in her bag.

After a moment of listening to it faintly ring, Isolde unzipped the the bag and answered the phone.

"Hello?" She croaked, her throat already starting to feel sore from the cold.

"Jesus christ, Isolde!?" A woman almost yelled on the opposite side of the line. "Are you outside in the rain? Do you have an umbrella with you?"

Isolde ignored the interrogation, staring blankly at her reflection which rippled in a puddle as droplets connected with it's surface.

"Mother." She bleakly remarked. "I'm alright. Did you need anything?"

It took a while for the woman to respond, her voice distant as she talked to someone else, accompanied by rapid typing of a keyboard.

"Yes, uh..." she trailed off, gathering her thoughts. "Ah! Yes! I wanted to tell you I'll be attending business in France next week. I hope you don't mind, but I was counting on visiting you."

"Sure, you know where to find me." Isolde had finally spotted her bus turning the corner. "I've got to go, call me whenever you arrive, I'll meet you." She said already removing the phone off her ear.

"O-okay, I love y-" Isolde ended the call, mounting the bus as it came to a halt before her.

She walked to the very back, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her.

An old lady traced her with her eyes, pointedly glancing from her to the floor with a raised eyebrow.

Isolde finally took an empty seat near another university student who had her earphones in as she scrolled through pictures of cacti.

By the time she got home, Isolde was sure she had caught a cold.

She made her way up the old four story building to the third floor.

She climbed the stained granite flight of stairs, tracing her finger along the black railing as she stared up at the unfinished roofing. It was left cemented, the years turning it brown to match the dots of the granite underneath her feet. On every floor the door was different, one was white the other brown with a ragged mat underneath it.

Finally, she reached her door, fishing her keys out the bag and pushing the door open. She kicked off her shoes, pushing them aside with her leg.

As usual, it was silent. Only this time the silence was accompanied by the abating rain that knocked at the windows and glass door of her balcony.

With a flick of her fingers, she turned on the lights then headed  towards the windows to pull the olive curtains shut.

Pieces of her clothing fell to the ground, leaving a trail behind her as she headed towards the bathroom.

Her feet dragged against the heated hardwood floor, a half empty bottle of wine dancing between her fingers.

Once in the bathroom, Isolde ignored the mirror, wrapping her hand around the knob of the sink as she allowed hot water to fill her tub.

In only her underwear, Isolde sat at the edge of the bathtub drifting off into yet another memory...