I usually think before I act. Sometimes, I overthink a lot. But there are instances such as these when the body reacts before the mind can process what happened. Impulse, they call it. When my phone was snatched away from me, my impulse was to run after the thief. I remembered my track and field days in elementary before I engaged in basketball, maybe I still had that in me.
I launched myself to run and then a foot tripped and I realized why I couldn’t dash off. I was wearing high heels which I could barely walk in, how much more run?
I close my eyes as I started falling and hoped that the ground would be gentler to me. But before my knees or my hands reached the asphalt, I felt large hands on my waist. The owner must be really strong and athletic since he was able to hoist me up in the air and back to my feet.
When I turned around, a tall man above six feet hovered above me. He had his hood on his head, so his eyes were veiled under the shadows. He was dripping from sweat but he didn’t smelled bad. He exuded a very masculine scent, though.
“Are you okay?” He asked me.
I was nowhere okay, but I nodded my head anyway. When I shifted my weight from my left foot to my right, I thought that I was on an uneven ground, but when I looked down on my feet, to my aghast, I realized that my right shoe’s heel had snapped.
This was like adding salt to injury. First, my date didn’t show up and I was embarrassed at the restaurant. Second, my phone got stolen and now my shoe? I felt the tears threatening in my eyes. The night had just gone from bad to worse to the worst.
I wanted to curse Jerod right now, but I could see my mother’s face frowning in disappointment.
“Oh, I know what to do.” The man who saved me from falling and who I haven’t thanked yet, suddenly knelt to the ground. He surprised me by taking my left leg gently. My hands fell on his broad shoulder for support. He took my left shoe and snapped the heel.
“Now, it’s all even.” He smiled at me, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. But right now, I couldn’t care less if he was a hunk with a set of gorgeous teeth because he just broke my only pair of heels which my sister Patricia bought for me on my birthday last year. They were the expensive kind of shoes that you buy at high end boutiques.
And as I gathered the remnants of the stilettos, I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore. Before the guy could see me, I turned my back on him and walked away really fast.
With the series of unfortunate events, I was bound to break down. Why is this happening to me? I tried to search the logic in all of this and I felt a pang of sadness, of guilt and fear.
What if all of this happened because Tristan was mad about me going out on a date with a stranger?
I’m sorry, Tristan. I’m sorry. I said over and over again while beating my chest. The heart that beats inside of it is his and he wouldn’t want it given to someone else.
At the thought of Tristan, a torrent of emotions caused tears to flood in my eyes. I wasn’t crying anymore about the failed date or the stolen phone or the broken shoes, but the memories of Tristan. It’s Valentine’s Day, the worst day for remembering a lost love.
