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LAce Posted Sunday, July 23rd, 2006
She Waits
H. E. Eigler

Her overweight figure shakes in the mirror, taunting her to do something. Her husband still desires her but she doesn't understand why and expects him to stop sometime soon. Her hair is stylish, colored with blond streaks of dye and cut in a fashionable form; she knows because she saw Jennifer Aniston with a similar 'do in a magazine once, but she doesn't spend time fussing with it, sometimes she doesn't even wash it.

Today she wants to be a real estate agent, but tomorrow she will find out how much it costs to take the licensing course and pay her broker for use of their logo's and phone lines, and she will abandon the idea. She looks for her identity online, on TV, in books she reads. She wonders what she wants to be when she grows up because she is only 27. Maybe she should just have children and be a mother; her figure, after all, isn't going to suffer. But she has a suit and pretty plastic fingernails and is a professional woman underneath her unwashed hair — her college diploma in Business proves it.

So she sits and waits for her passion to find her. She reads the business section of the newspaper in her pj's and fuzzy slippers while sipping a latte, because maybe the answer is at the bottom of her cup. Maybe she should decide she likes to work in an office; decide to be happy like her mother. She would only scream a little at her boss and only make one co-worker cry. Maybe she should remove herself from emotion like her father.

For now, the unemployment checks come, and she is thankful she doesn't have to take just any old job. She doesn't want to serve food or bag groceries. She pets the cat and waits for an answer, for someone to tell her the plan. She waits.

Comments [post a comment]

Posted by Donna Levy [ donnachka@cox.net ] on Monday, July 24th, 2006 at 12:15 PM
How remarkable that in merely 4 paragraphs you have captured that combination of malaise and ennui from which we have all suffered at one time or another. Very well done. Donna

Posted by Nonnie Augustine on Monday, July 24th, 2006 at 2:27 PM
Tight, evocative writing, Heather. I can see this woman in her kitchen drinking her latte. I hope she moves soon. Nonnie

Posted by Sharon Hurlbut on Monday, July 24th, 2006 at 9:11 PM
And while she waits, life passes by. How sad and how very, very real this is, Heather. Poignant.

Posted by Rhayn Time on Thursday, July 27th, 2006 at 6:36 PM
Perhaps you're on to something...the fortune Starbucks has made is directly related to the millions looking for something at the bottom of their latte. Thanks, enjoyed. Rhayn.



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