Day 2 —Tell about a character who lost something important to him/her.
Louise had been busy all day. The secretarial pool was buzzing with all the edits of the latest novel to be published. There were a lot of pages with red marks and the suggested changes that the typists had to implement. It is odd with this type of work, the typist jumped from red mark to red mark making the required changes but not really reading the work as a whole.
Louise had been working on the first and last chapters, it was a random assignment on who got what part of the work.
Jeremiah looked at her.
Really looked at her.
Not past her or through her.
She felt his every observation like a whisper thin caress on her skin.
The words “Jeremiah looked at her. Really looked at her. Not past her or through her and she felt his every observation like a whisper thin caress of her skin” broke through her concentration. She stopped tying and considered what that would feel like. To have the man she loved or even just the one with her, to actually look at her.
In that moment, Louise realised that in her 50 years this had happened to her. A man had looked at her like this and that she had felt the cool caress of his thoughts. It was so long ago but suddenly it felt like yesterday and she mourned the loss of it from her memory as she returned to typing her assignment.
Later than night, in her home with a glass of red wine, Louise looked through her scrapbook from her teens. She came across a photo of her younger self in a bright red strapless dress with matching high heels, standing on a dance floor facing her dance partner. The other people on the dance floor faded into nothing but her partner and the look he was giving her, which she could still see in the old photo was a look she had dismissed at the time.
Too much alcohol and the giddy influence of the threshold of adulthood, Louise had dismissed the look and the accompanying expression of love. She had returned home from the dance, packed her bags and left for secretarial school, leaving her dance partner, Mathew, behind. Suddenly, Louise tasted tears on her lips, mingling with the wine as she remembered her lost love. Realising in that moment what she had lost.
On a desperate whim she rang the number of the house Mathew used to live in with his parents. A dwelling in their home town from so long ago.
“Hello?” responded a deep melodious male voice.
“Mathew?” she gently whispered back.
“Louise, is that you?”
I am not sure I answered the prompt correctly. My story is more focussed on the loss than Louise who lost it. I might need another attempt at this.