Serendipity is the object of my desire. In fact, I lust after her with the unreserved passion of a romance writer. I’m overwhelmed whenever I come across her because she is always more beautiful than I had expected.
Maybe it’s her deep, dark eyes that shine like infinite pools of possibilities; or maybe it’s her mysterious smile that sparkles with unanticipated mischief. Whatever it is, I am so drawn to her that an almost orgasmic smile gets plastered across my face whenever she is near.
But unfortunately that’s not very often; she’s so capricious and elusive.
I tried hanging out in her regular haunts, going so far as to join a MeetUp group ‘Shut Up and Write,’ where she networks with other people. While there, I tried catching her eye by looking intelligent and energetic—no response. I tried being suave and sophisticated—a well-travelled man of the world, that didn’t work any better. She flirted with everyone but me. I even tried the direct approach, to make a date with her, but she blew me off.
I don’t want her to think I’m a stalker, but she can’t get to know me if she continually ignores me. That’s why I followed her. That’s why I am here, on the sidewalk, by this tall hedge with the narrow opening. Something you’d miss if you’d blink.
I am not surprised she lives in this unusual place with the narrow walkway and, an even narrower door. A place that’s definitely not building-code legal. But that doesn’t matter, I’m smitten with her.
So, my plan is to put my brain in neutral and sit here, waiting for her. When she comes out, I’ll chat with her, dazzle her with my intellectual brilliance, ask her out for supper… It’s not a hardship to wait. I don’t mind sitting in the warm sun, even though my eyes feel a little heavy.
Finally, my dogged patience pays off. I hear her door open and see her standing in the doorway, smiling and beckoning me to come in. She even throws me a kiss to entice me further. This is it. This is my chance. I get up and quickly walk down her narrow sidewalk.
Normally, things are smaller when your far away and get bigger as you approach. But as I get closer, the perspective changes, and the door gets narrower and narrower. Serendipity gets smaller and smaller. I realize I have to hurry, or else I won’t fit through the door.
I get there just in time and stick my leg in the doorway, trying to keep it open. But it doesn’t help, I feel the door slam on my leg. Then open and slam again. My leg begins to hurt– badly.
The pain wakes me. I open my eyes, and I see this frail old woman hitting my leg with her cane. In a fragile voice, I hear her tell me to get up off her walkway, or she’d call the cops.
Then I feel an almost orgasmic smile plaster itself across my face. Serendipity, my love, did connect with me after all; and this strange story you’re reading, is the proof.