I have come to the conclusion that I might be going crazy. No, I haven’t been
reading those Twilight books again. It’s even worse than that. I have been
experiencing this strange feeling, one that cannot be explained by words. No
matter, I will tell you about this sudden feeling through a memory.
It feels like it happened just yesterday. Well, it kind of did happen yesterday,
but for the sake of making this story sound more like a fairy tale, let’s say it all
happened one week ago.
It was a sunny that day. Actually, it wasn’t sunny at all, but it was rainy.
It had been rainy that day, and I was, as usual, coming back from my
afternoon five-mile jog. When I walked into my small, square office, I shook the
remaining water out of my hair and saw the most beautiful display of flowers, all
bunched up in a pot of soil. They looked like roses, but then again, the lights were
off. After I actually turned on the lights, I realized the object sitting innocently
on my desk was clearly not a vase of roses. No, they weren’t any type of flower.
Instead, there was yet anther dead raccoon sitting on my desk.
Now, you could imagine my disappointment when I saw that there were no
flowers. It was like a huge cloud of despair had just decided to come and pay me a
little visit to ask if we could have tea.
The feeling of despair was not the special feeling that I couldn’t describe in
words, because, as you can see, I did give a very nice description of despair. No, it
was another feeling that comes up a bit later in the story.
Many people would think or ask, ‘Why does this girl have dead raccoons
hanging out on her desk?’ And the answer to this very question is that I don’t
exactly know why I, somehow, have been finding dead raccoons on my desk for the
past five days. Each of these past five days, right after my five-mile jog, I walk into
my lovely office and I find that there is a dead raccoon on my desk.
How did I think that there were flowers on my desk, instead of a dead
raccoon? I really don’t know, but I do know that it wasn’t the first time I had
mistaken the dead raccoon for flowers.
After the little raccoon incident, I took the raccoon by the tail and picked it up
off the table, but before I could throw it out the window, like I did with the last five,
I noticed a strip of paper. There, attached to the left foot of the raccoon, was a thin
strip of paper; the words on it were small, black and typewritten. I squinted to make
out the words and saw the message ‘meet me at 8:00 pm at 234 Washington Road.’
My heart jumped a bit as I wondered who it could be. The only person I
could think of that could display such a loving gesture was Brad, my boyfriend of
two weeks.
Once I had gotten over my daze, I looked at the clock to see that it was
already 7:55. “Oh god,” I muttered as I gathered my purse and stuffed a couple of
unimportant papers into it. Then, I dashed out of my office, still holding the raccoon
in my hand, and called a cab to take me to the address.
I arrived at exactly 8:09 pm. Through the window, I could make out the
form of my boyfriend Brad, and I felt the most exhilarating feeling ever. It was like
I had dinosaurs, not butterflies, stampeding in my stomach, while my palms were
sweating a whole river.
This time, I had not mistaken the object in the dark, because when I finally
did open the door slowly, the lights magically turned on, and I saw Brad, standing
with my bouquet of roses. A small orchestra of three violins started to play, and a
black woman was singing a soft melody very beautifully. I noticed that anchored to
the wall was a sign, showered in a curtain of yellow light, that read the words ‘WILL
YOU MARRY ME?’
I couldn’t believe my eyes, so I, of course, fainted.
Brad apparently had thought I was dead, because when I woke up again, I
saw him curled up in a ball, sobbing about how young I was – “so so so so young” –
and how we never got to have enough time together. One of the violinists spent ten
minutes trying to convince him that I wasn’t dead. He snapped his head up to look
at me with an emotion, a feeling in his wonderful gray and tear-filled eyes. It was
that feeling that I could never place my finger on.
Brad strode over to me, gliding his feet against the sparkly floor and got
on one knee. “I have been waitin’ for the past five days for you to show up,” he
murmured as he took my hand in his.
The next moments were a bit of a blur to me. I can remember me saying a
faint yes, us kissing and talking. I don’t know. I had a lot to drink that night.
And that’s the story of my proposal and the new feeling I experienced. When
I looked up the symptoms of the feeling I was experiencing, the google machine told
me I was in love. What a load of –
Oops, it’s time to go! I’m off to my pre wedding honeymoon!
Ta Ta for now,
Agatha Bennet
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