My One Shots

An Exquisite Moment

I believe, every day, you should at least have one exquisite moment.

Or at least give someone else the one beautiful moment of their day. That's always a source of elation, i believe.

Today's been a busy and weird day. To be honest, i don't mind. I'd rather be busy than have my empty mind create scenarios that can't really conspire in real life. I'm hopeless like that.

Today was another story, though.

I was only just less than a yard away from my office when i saw an elderly woman trying to cross the road to the side across my office. She held a cane in her trembling wrinkled hands as she tried to balance her weight with its help.

I couldn't help myself. I ran and was beside her in the next moment, holding her by the arm as i tried to keep her steady and waved the passing vehicles to slow down.

When we were safely on the other side of the road, i gazed at her face for the first time to find her staring at me with her gaze startled. I couldn't help but notice how beautiful of a young woman she must have been in her best years, and even now, despite her age, her grey eyes and pink cheeks could steal any sane man's breath away.

When the silence grew unbearable, i tried to crack open a conversation. “Um. Hi, my name's--”

She cut me off and spoke in a voice so raw yet so sweet i felt my heart fill with warmth. “Did i ask you?”

“Oh, um. Sorry,” i rasped under the weight of embarrassment. “Well, where are you headed? Are you okay? I can--”

“Slow down, young lady. I'm perfectly fine, don't worry.” She paused for a second and shifted her gaze towards the busy road. “You don't have to pity me, girl.”

“I'm so--” Her intense gaze stopped me midway and i realized yet again, for the nth time, how awkward of a person i am at communication. “I mean, i'm not sorry. I just wanna say...” What did i wanna say?

“It's okay. I realize i'm being mean to you for no reason.”

“So, uh, are you gonna tell me where you are headed?”

“No.” I just gaped at her in response. I didn't know where to go from here, and i had office to attend. It made me feel awful that i was worrying about office right now.

The office was my one comfortable place other than my home. A cozy place where i could sit down and do what i loved the most: writing. I, Anuya Selmon, was a creative writer for a well-known firm in the city of Tribeya, Elkjen.

“I'm sorry, girl, i worried you so much. But please stop biting your lip, it's nearly bleeding.” Well done, Anuya. “Are you okay, now?”

“Oh, um, yes. Yes, i'm fine. I actually have to go. But i'd love to stay if you want me to drop you off somewhere. Or i'll hire a cab--”

“Slow down, sweetpea.” Great. “I'd love to sit down somewhere right now, my feet are aching from standing so much.”

“Oh, i'm sorry, i didn't realize.”

“You're sorry a lot. Anyway, do you wanna sit somewhere cozy around here? Like, a coffee place? This one, actually, just around here.” She pointed to my favorite coffee place, one where i'd always get coffee on my breaks from the office. The ambiance around there was also very peaceful to just get cozy or even have a good chat with friends and family.

Her idea didn't sound so bad, except i wasn't good at getting comfortable with strangers.

I nodded. “Of course.” I didn't wanna sound rude.

I matched her pace on the little walk to the coffee shop. She walked supported by her cane, refusing to let me help her.

Finally getting settled on a table in one corner, i decided to call up the office to inform of an emergency and that i wouldn't show up today.

The old lady looked up at me, her grey eyes almost captivating. “I'm sorry, i was rude out there. I'm just not used to being helped around.”

“Oh, don't say sorry. You're like... my mother.” I didn't exactly remember my mother, but, weirdly enough, i felt if she were here, she would be a lot like this lady.

“You see, i don't have a child to hold my hand and help me cross the road, or sit with me at a coffee shop. Or...talk to me.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Oh, it's fine. I'm used to it.” She laughed. Then, something flickered in her eyes, something between hurt and anger, something bitter. “I can't.”

“You can't, what?” i said, instantly feeling drawn to her story.

“I can't pretend it's fine. I can't lie and say i'm used to it, or that i'll ever be. I can't stop wishing.”

I reached out my hand and put it on top of hers across the table. “You know, my mother died giving me birth, and everyday i miss her. There isn't a day when i don't. I wish every single day that i had something of her to hold onto. But i don't.”

I looked up at her, and found her eyes reflecting the small tear in my own.

“I'm sorry, i didn't mean to. I just wanted to say that you remind me of what a mother would be like, what my mother would've been like.”

“Oh, sweetie.” That word sounded beautiful, comforting, something i longed to hear. I smiled through my tears.

She looked at me and frowned, as if nervous to say something. “Actually... I'd love it if we stayed in touch.”

“Of course! I'd love, love, love that!” She smiled pleasantly at me. “Can i call you--”

“You can call me whatever you would've wanted to call your mother. My name, however, is Rose.” Rose. This name suited her so well.

“Mother Rose.”

Her eyes reflected happy tears at that title.

An exquisite moment, i thought.