Postaday:You discover a letter on a path that affects you deeply. Today, write about this encounter. And your twist? Be as succinct as possible.
JUNE 5, 2014
It was a blustery fall afternoon with the sun a weak partner in the sky, sending tired rays of light through the leaves to dapple the path ahead with what energy it could muster. I felt the same, as I found an empty bench and sat down, placing my black bag next to me. Merely walking required more energy than I had. The break-up had hit me out of the blue, sent my head spinning like the falling leaves around me. I needed someone to talk to but knew no one in this city.
A random gust swept a folded piece of paper off the trodden path and into my hands. I looked around but saw no one I
I looked around me, but no one appeared to be in distress.
I turned the note over in my hand and spied the address of a nearby hotel printed in tiny letters across the bottom. It was the Westminster, a few blocks away. Not even sure what I was doing, I grabbed my bag, turned around and made my way down the two blocks to the Westminster. The doorman let me in and I walked into the middle of the huge reception area. I scanned the crowd and my heart skipped a beat. There on a round leather ottoman sat Steve Wyatt, the boy who grew up next door to me in Brooklyn. He was holding a baby. I hadn’t seen him since we were crowned king and queen of the prom and left to attend colleges on opposite coasts. But I never forgot him.
I crossed the room and he looked up and smiled. “I knew you’d come back, one day,” he said.
I took the child from his arms and laid him on the ottoman. I opened up my black medical bag and pulled out my stethoscope. “Let’s see what’s up with you, little fella. Then Dr. Sally and your daddy have a lot to talk about.”
The sun must have shared my surge of energy, as the clouds cleared suddenly, the rays lit the autumn leaves and filled the hotel lobby with golden sunlight.