[For the previous installment, please scroll back]

“Hey! This place is pretty crowded. Would you mind if I sit with you?”

She graced me with the warmest of warm dark brown eyes and her smile could have lit up the entire coffee shop.

“Be my guest. But you might regret it…”

She motioned for me to sit and I promptly accepted.

“With a smile that beautiful, regret would be impossible.”

I expected her to avert her eyes shyly or at least blush at my compliment but I got neither. She never even flinched.

I watched as she smoothed out the newspaper and folded it into four. As she did, she continued smiling and her eyes never left mine.

“So tell me, why would I regret sitting with you?”

“Well, I’m not that much of a conversationalist this early in the morning. And those girls over there seemed more than ready and willing to entertain a good-looking guy like you.”

She gestured behind me and when I turned, the three women were looking in our direction.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. I was impressed that she had observed that subtle exchange because it meant that she had been looking at me. Then, there was the fact that she had called me “good-looking”. Things were looking up so I cranked up the charm.

“You’ve been watching me? I’m flattered.”

“No, I wasn’t watching you. Let’s just say that I’m very aware of my surroundings and the people around me.”

She grinned and slipped the newspaper into her bag.

I laughed at how she skillfully skirted around my shameless flirtation.

“Maybe you should be a cop.”

“Who says that I’m not?”

I leaned in towards her across the table and whispered, “You’re too pretty to be a cop.”

She leaned in to match my action and whispered back, “That’s a bit insulting to all the female police officers in the world. Maybe…just maybe, I’m very aware of my surroundings because I’m…psychic.”

There was a long quiet moment as we simply looked at each other. This was getting more and more interesting by the second. I was enjoying this little banter between us, chatting like we already knew each other. At this rate and if I wasn’t careful, I would quickly go from being early for work to being late.

I studied her pretty face and wondered how her skin could look so smooth when she seemed to have absolutely no make-up on.  Her “Au Naturelle” T-shirt was definitely on point. There was a sense of familiarity about her which was a bit odd because we had just met.

“A psychic, you say? Okay then, “read” me. Tell me all about me.”

She took a long sip from her coffee mug. I, on the other hand, had completely forgotten that I’d even bought myself a coffee. I took a quick swig of mine and waited for her volley back. She outstretched her hand and showed me her palm. I frowned, a little confused.

“What?”

She wiggled the fingers of her outstretched hand.

“Give me your hand. I’ll give you a …”reading”.

I laughed again as I gave her my hand.

“How much will it cost me?”

I had started this game and she wasn’t afraid to play. I was already hooked.

“Not one penny.”

Her hand was smooth and soft as she slid her palm across mine. When she simply held it in hers, I no longer cared about being late for work.

“Okay Ms. Psychic?” I teased, “Tell me about my future because I could definitely see you in it.”

Next installment: January 17

©2016 Marquessa Matthews. All Rights Reserved.

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I will admit that sometimes I can be a bad, bad girl…

Story time:

Nicolas wasn’t a pain in my ass until he went and poked the bear.

Yeah, you guessed right.

I was the bear.

At a large firm I used to work for, Nicolas was the classic office gossiper who enjoyed stirring the pot. He sat in the cubicle next to me and listened to EVERY SINGLE WORD I said, especially when I took personal calls on my breaks. I knew that he was eavesdropping because his cubicle would go totally silent each and every time I would take a call or talk to a colleague. Even though I didn’t care for his “vibe”, I was always civil but not overly-friendly.

I’m always very selective with whom I engage with in work environments and I never participate in any gossip. I also never give anyone anything gossip-worthy about myself. I was a closed book, especially with Nicolas. But he was the type of fool who needed to fill all the time that he wasn’t working with drama.

To give you a little context, Nicolas was the same weak ass colleague whose files I had been asked to take over, little by little, because he felt “overwhelmed”. I couldn’t understand because he spent most of his time having breakfast at a colleague’s desk every morning, logging more personal calls than with his clients and he gossiping the day away with anyone who would listen.

But things shifted for me when I found out that Nicolas had been making up stories about me.

When I heard that, the only thing I wanted to do was tell him what he could do to himself but then it occurred to me that I could have a little fun with the situation.

The first thing I did was go to my manager and hand back all the files that I had taken on for him. I told my manager that Nicolas did nothing all day and that if he felt “overwhelmed”, he should take a leave of absence or distract himself by actually working.

Oh yeah, I went there.

Then, I hit Nicolas where it would hurt the most – with some easy breezy free-flowing gossip created, produced and edited by me. It was an experiment to see how fast the gossip he spread would ripple and bounce back to me.

I could fill a small notebook with the ludicrous crap I made up on “pretend” phone calls in my little cubicle knowing that Nicolas was eavesdropping. Like lies about how I used to live in different parts of the world, how I was only working for “fun”, claims of having done Botox and plastic surgery, how I was dating a popular local athlete whose name everyone knew…

Oh yeah, I did. It was my turn to stir the pot and it went on for months…

It was hilarious to see how quickly he spread my gossip. It was even more hilarious when eventually someone curious would approach me with questions related to what Nicolas had “overheard” me say.

And oh, how hilarious it was for me to give that someone a seriously confused look and say, “Huh? That’s not true. Who told you that?”, a question to which that someone could never respond to without outing Nicolas as the gossiper.

It didn’t take long to break Nicolas.

This is what broke him…

I called up a friend (who was in on the joke) on my lunch hour and “reminisced” about the time I was at the altar ready to marry the man who I had settled for when the man that I really loved stopped the wedding, whisked me away on the back of a motorcycle and that we had secretly gotten married.

Does that storyline sound familiar to anyone out there?

Remember when Bo kidnapped Hope from her wedding to that loser Larry on “Days of Our Lives”?

Yeah, I had regurgitated that scene.

My friend was howling with laughter on the other end of the line.

Seriously stupid sh*t that Nicolas should have been able to smell a mile away but he didn’t. He was like a hungry fish ready and willing to bite on any smelly bait.

A few days later, two co-workers approached me for their typical “fake” conversation. Somehow, co-worker #1 asked me if I had ever been married. Of course, I said no.

When co-worker #2 said that “someone” had said that I was once married, I responded with a poker face. Again, I said no, I had never been married.

Nicolas popped up like a bolt of lightening from his cubicle and scurried out of his cubicle to try to redeem himself and not look like a liar.

Nicolas (confused look): “But you said that you got married!”
Me (serious face): “What are you talking about? When did I ever tell you that?”
Nicolas (dazed, confused and caught in a corner): “Uh…uh…You didn’t. I…uh…heard you on the phone.”
Me (poker face but laughing my ass off on the inside): “I don’t know what you heard me say but you must have misunderstood.”
Nicolas (opens his mouth to say something but realizes that he can’t go further with the conversation without looking like an liar and ass): —-

Co-workers # 1 and #2 glare at Nicolas in disgust and then quickly walk away.

Nicolas was left standing there like loser that he was. Poor guy, I think that he almost believed that he had misinterpreted what he had heard.

Over the next few months, it was quite noticeable that his group of gossipers A few months later, poor Nicolas left for another company.

What’s the moral of this story?

Don’t waste your time getting mad or being bitter. Just have a little fun getting even.

©2015 Marquessa Matthews. All Rights Reserved.

 

scared disney pixar GIF by Disney

Fear is scary.

We all have something in our lives that we’re afraid of. And as you read this, your mind may drift to the fears you’re struggling with right now.

Fear comes in all shapes and forms and one person’s fear is no greater than anyone else’s fear.

Fear is fear. Plain and simple.

For some, embarrassment and/or shame stops them from speaking about what scares them while others seek refuge in fear as a means to stay safely in a quiet corner with Mr. Status Quo. Either way, fear keeps us from ever knowing what joy and beauty could be waiting around the corner.

Giving a voice to fear makes it less scary, especially when you realize that you aren’t alone.

And when the fear is less scary, the more power you feel to do something to about it.

©2018 Marquessa Matthews

 

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I’ve been re-blogging quite a bit lately.

No, I don’t have writer’s block. Thankfully, I have never suffered from that disease. With a notebook full of ideas and two novellas in need of some TLC and beta reader feedback, I could easily keep myself busy.

But I don’t feel like writing.

Since I’ve gotten back from my holiday last month, it feels like EVERYTHING around me needs 100% of my attention – RIGHT NOW or YESTERDAY. And my post-vacation drama trauma set the downhill tone for this past month.

I can’t catch my breath and the harder I try to keep up with everything, the more it feels like I’m getting nowhere fast with the things I want to do and need to do.

Everyone suffers from stress but when it’s your stress, you feel like you’re drowning.

Writing usually relieves my stress but being too busy to write, the stress is accumulating and making me feel blah.

And feeling blah means that I have no creative flow.

And no creative flow means that I don’t feel like writing.

Blah…

It’s like a stupid catch 22.

Blah…

What do you do to get back into your creative flow?

 M  xoxo