The Smallest Parallel

Chapter 4

Present Day

       Geoffrey sat at the kitchen counter, engaged in reading a pamphlet about practical new business solutions. He found the mundane things in life to be comforting; safety was his favorite hobby. He thought back to a time during which he had been less careful and more spirited, and then he remembered that his ideals for himself had passed on along with his father.

He sat there, kicking his toes lightly against the backs of the cabinets. He had never been able to keep his feet still, even into adulthood. While Geoffrey was reading, he found his mind otherwise occupied. He would begin a page, zone out, and then begin his page once more. He sighed as he realized that he was wasting his time.

He then remembered the thick leather journal resting within his coat pocket. The thought of his page both troubled and excited him. He removed the journal and flipped through it once again, caressing each page lightly with his fingers and mouthing key words. He had wished for many years that he could see inside of her head, though now he was glad that he couldn't. He had always been very organized in his thoughts. He always knew how to choose his words carefully, and he knew how to keep old memories where they belonged.

He thought back to the angel who had greeted him as a child, and he smiled to himself. He liked to envision himself as a careless and wise adventurer. His ideal self had been brave and uncompromising. He stood firm in his beliefs and moved mountains with his mind. He considered that daydreaming could be foolish and even dangerous. Marguerite's constant daydreaming supplied her with a worsening mental state and a turbulent disposition. He still wondered what she was thinking at times.

He came across a page that bore the name Adrien, and he quickly pondered reading it. Then he wondered about the consequences of knowing such private information. His finger hovered over the word "romantic", and he quickly flipped the pages. He blushed at the thought that he was trespassing. He felt that he was in a dangerous position.

This was the adventure he had needed, the distraction he had wanted from the repetition of his simple life. He felt a rush of adrenaline simply from reading someone else's journal. Was this pathetic or was it one of the little excitements that every man should feel at least once. He closed his eyes and imagined himself on the edge of a mountain. He wore a parachute and felt the cold wind on his face. The atmospheric pressure weighed upon his shoulders and he felt tears stinging his eyes. Sometimes he visualized his goals as mountains. The metaphor soothed his unsatisfied want of adventure.

He opened his eyes and quickly obscured the journal as he heard a key turn in the lock of his apartment. His eyes shifted upwards as he saw Maggie open the front door, weighed down by textbooks and holding a disposable coffee cup.

"Hey babe," she said in her loud, cheerful tone.

"Hey Mags. How was school?" he asked.

"I must say that these classes, while intriguing, are kicking my ass. I have to read Plato's The Republic, and I must admit that he isn't my favorite philosopher to study."

I must say this about Maggie: She was young, beautiful, and passionate, but she was not meant to study philosophy. Maggie was a pseudo intellectual. She enjoyed the idea of studying the works of great philosophers, but she found herself bored and uncommitted when it came to actual coursework.

"Maybe you should consider changing your major, Mags. It's never too late to pursue other interests, and I think your cheery attitude would be well-suited for social work." He looked at her, making sure that his words hadn't upset her.

"Geoff, honey, you know that I enjoy philosophy far more than I enjoy practical fields of study." She frowned as she considered how pretentious that sentence had sounded. I'm kidding. She wasn't that self-aware.