To Want You

43

In the long run, it's better to just keep quiet and allow the rage to erupt another day.

As I grit my teeth and push in the last file into its perspective category, I head out of the little room where some old files are kept in place and enter the hallway leading to where Sarah's office is, gradually gliding my fingers down to flatten the creases of my pencil skirt.

I need to collect my thoughts. I want to step out for a while. Maybe get myself coffee too.

Fingers hovering the end of my right sleeve, I twirl the fabric enough to reach two inches below my elbow.

There's a wall that's made of pure glass and it gives the best view of the city. The floor I'm currently standing on is the fourth floor so you can imagine how beautiful the scenery can get when sunset finally dawns in.

Rays of light pierce through the sean, illuminating the hall.

White heaven-bound birds were as brilliant rays from wind-dappled sea-water; their brightness amid otherwise infinite blue, gliding as free souls.

You could see a city of wide avenues and small places to sit and eat, to relax as folk went about their day.

There were the sky towers in the center, what was once thousands of homes now took up less ground space than an old shopping mall.

The rest was parks and wild spaces, a chance to walk among nature or enjoy the trails on bicycles or horseback.

Yet perhaps my favorite thing was the river that flowed through the center, crossing the bridges, pausing just to look at the view I saw every day and loved all the more.

In each wing-given arc, they were the tips of a conductor's wand, a piece of music for both eyes and soul, bringing a wave of sweet earthly joy.

A beacon of light pierced through the mullioned panes of glass, bathing the black and white tile floor in a crisscross of iridescent color; illuminating the walls of the building.

The sunshine is so sweet, nectar bestowed to the bees by each fragrant bloom.

It was the gift of the sun that rendered each moment so rich, so buoyant, conjuring the wands of green to rise skyward.

To me, it was a symphony of colors, one that brought the sensation of dance to my bones.

My chest heaves up and down when I release a sigh.

It was time for lunchtime.

Unfortunately now, I can't properly give the beautiful weather its proper credit for a job well done.

"Sarah," I call out and in seconds, she's lifting her head from her cubicle to look up to me. She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and quickly stands up before bowing in respect.