Beyond Love

Friend or foe

I'd waited for my heart to calm its erratic beat before carefully emerging from my hiding spot, checking for any sign of movement. My gaze went first to the folder on the podium. Oh thank goodness. It was there.

Given the opportunity to read the analyses sent by Dempsey at this point in time, between the second and final segment of the annual prize, was not so much a mere coincidence. I reached for the folder once more, turning to the page I'd recalled with picture samples of the bakery's newest creations and processes, including possible recipes and... and it's gone.

The page I recalled seeing was no longer in the folder. I'd flipped it over twice and was doing so the third time, wondering if my eyes had been playing tricks on me when the analytical graphs started looking strangely different from the first time I'd seen it and the sale numbers, all of a sudden, less shocking than before. Even the featured products seemed to have different descriptions and the research tab, oddly thin.

Again, I checked the front of the file and there it was. His name embossed on the corner in small gold letters; so it was his folder and at the same time, it wasn't. I'd convinced myself it was the thrill of a first read that I'd experienced minutes ago that soon died down and after the second, third read—an increasing insensitivity towards the lying words of praise Dempsey had for Chip Honeycutt. I had been anxious for quite likely no reason at all.

Pulling out a swivel chair before the box of chocolates, I sat myself down to breathe while trying to recall the contents of the interesting page I remembered seeing before... before someone... it was them.

They swapped the contents of the folder. The prospect of Chip Honeycutt having more foes than friends seemed so unlikely that I was inclined to believe myself wrong for assuming that there were others out to bring him down. Perhaps it really is part of the punishment he was bound to receive; or perhaps a form of His disappointment. To think my thoughts of altering the contents of the folder were answered, and almost at once!

I didn't even have to lift a finger.

Put to ease, I sighed in relief and leaned against the backrest of the chair, waiting for Mr. Yamazaki to arrive. Another ten to fifteen minutes here and should he not appear, I suppose going directly to his room may be the next option. Afterwards, perhaps a walk down the street or a visit to my franchise in the next avenue nearby. And of course, giving Trudy a blow-by-blow account of what I'd witnessed.

I drummed my fingers on the table, eased and yet, slightly overwhelmed by an odd stirring in my chest that felt so foreign and unusual. It was unlike myself to harp on something that had been constant throughout my life—the fact that for the past few days, I hadn't had to do a thing to receive the man blessings I have been accepting. Which had been the case for the past twenty-two years of my life!

Praying does miracles; that much, I knew. Yet, with the consequences of my blessings remaining out of sight and only the benefits within my field of vision, I had, admittedly, never witnessed, first hand, the cost of my success: someone else's happiness.

And should this be the outcome of it all, would anyone be willing to pray for their own joy, knowing that it would be at the cost of someone else, somewhere in the universe?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[Chip]

I thanked the cashier in a hurry and nyoomed out of the convenience store as fast as I could, praying that my ears weren't red and that the people in the queue hadn't seen the stuff I'd bought at Xander's request and almost bumping into a stranger from being so unwittingly clumsy.