"Of Course" : A Writing Exercise

Today’s entry will be a writing exercise. Thank you to a good friend who texted me a word to inspire today’s exercise. The word is stiletto. I hope you enjoy! Pinkies Up!

Of course

By Melissa Whitney

A perturbed sigh escaped Meghan as fat raindrops pelted against the black pavement. Of course, she’d left her umbrella in her car, parked all the way across the parking lot.

            It had been a day. An accident on the 405 made her twenty-minutes late for work. Of course. A hallway collision resulted in coffee splashing onto her new yellow top. Of course. Someone had eaten her yogurt from the breakroom fridge. Of course. The blind date scheduled for tonight had cancelled. Of course.

            Thunder clapped. “Of course,” she groaned.

            Sucking in a deep breath, she ran out from beneath the red striped awning of her office building. The heels of her black stilettos clacked against the wet pavement. Rounding the row where her car was, she skidded on the slick surface.

            “Oof,” she whimpered slamming against the ground. Cold wetness seeped through the back of her blouse.

She should get up, but she remained there. Not out of any injury nor shock, but out of resignation.

            I live here now. This is my home. She closed her eyes sinking deeper into the frigid hardness below.

            “Are you okay?” a deep voice asked.

            God? Blinking her eyes open, brown eyes rimmed in gold met her.

            “Hi.” Her voice breathy not from the fall, but from the boyish dimple that popped as he smiled down at her.

            He held his hand out. “Are you okay?”

            “Yes.” She took his hand. Its warmth spreading through her as he guided her to a seated position.

            He moved his umbrella over them, shielding them from the slowing rain. “I’m Kyle.”

            “I’m Meghan.” For some reason her hand was still in his. She should remove it, but she kept her hand in his.

            Straightening from where he crouched, he lifted them to their feet. Their bodies close under the umbrella. A tiny shiver trembled through her.

            “You’re freezing,” he said, handing her the umbrella and taking off his jacket. Draping it around her shoulders he winced. “Sorry. I should have asked before I went all 1950s man on you.”

            “It’s okay,” she said, allowing the spicy scent that lingered in the jacket to envelop her.

            “Would you like to grab a cup of coffee? To get you warm?” There was a sweet bashfulness in the timbre of his voice.

            “Of course.” A large grin spread.