She sat by the big window, watching people walk by, she wore her most purple skirt, she was never shy to dress loudly.
Her name is Margo, She is a seventy something years old, but looks no older than 50, and feels no younger than a hundred, an obscurity that is very well understood for a woman of her previous glory.
Margo was a heart breaker back in her days, with crisp yet gentle features, and a body that drove men to the verge of insanity, which of course entitled her to a youth full of privileges, ranging from subtle introductory gifts, to expensive holidays at that secluded and exclusive retreat by lake Geneva.
“More coffee “, she heard as her eyes regained sight of the grey skies.
Many years back, Margo began to notice a fade in the colors surrounding her, she always blamed it on her eyesight, but she knew the real reason, and ever since, she hoped that someday she would see brilliant yellow or vivid purple again, but she had no clue that it would be sooner than she expects.
“Compliments of the gentlemen over there “ said the waiter as he offered her a cup of coffee.
She looks over, and suddenly the colors are as vivid as they can be, and she feels like her old self again.
She smiles and waves her thank you, a polite sultry smile that she mastered through her years.
The man in the trench coat, Mr. Hughes, was dreamy as ever, bearded, confident and serene, Margo could tell because she was good at reading people, and even better at reading men.
“May I join you? “ Said Mr. Hughes in a deep and subtle voice.
“By all means “ Replied Margo with an undeniable charm.
Laughter, colors and second chances. Margo was happy, for a brief moment.
By Qutaiba Abdelhaq. Check out the 'Illuminated Philosopher' Blog here.
