I see stories – the final step

I guess I don’t need to tell you where this picture was taken. I’m kind of proud of the artsy effect, but then my standards are pretty low for my own picture taking.

I’m standing here finally at the base of the most romantic location I could get to. This is the last step in a long series of steps I never thought I would take.

Like step one. I would have put money on the fact that I would never move to a big city like San Fransisco. I was a confirmed small town girl until I won the trip, but as the hotel shuttle approached the city, I felt like I’d come home.

Then step number two. I was lonely. Yes, I was luck to get a great job, but I had no friends to hang out with. The phone calls to my old buddies didn’t get the job done. So, I signed up for an on line dating service.

I’m sure you can guess the next steps. Multiple dates that didn’t feel right; either they were wrong for me, or I really worked at being wrong for them.

That is until Rafe sent me an invitation. Step number three. I had never been to a gallery opening. I hated it, but something clicked with Rafe.

Now, he was waiting for me at the top of the tower. I imagined him looking down and seeing me in the line up for the elevator. Then we were clanking our way to the observation deck. My heart was beating hard enough to make me want to throw up but I managed to hold it together as the elevator made it to the top. The doors opened. I stepped out. I looked around, Rafe wasn’t standing in front of the elevator. I’d pictured him there with a dozen roses and a smile just for me.

I followed the crowd around the observation deck but there was no Rafe.  I knew it was too good to be true for me. I couldn’t go back down right away. I didn’t want to imagine my fellow passengers feeling pity for me. I know, it’s not all about me but it sure felt like it.

I went to the edge to look out over Paris. The view was fuzzed out by smog; another disappointment.

“Madame, are you expecting to meet Monsieur Rafael Albert?” The words came from a middle aged man in  a trench coat. Behind him stood two other men in uniforms.

“I am,” I said. I’m not good at lying.

The two uniformed cops moved to stand beside me. “Please, come with us.”

–:) —

Okay so I did try to make it nice and romancy, but it’s just not in me.