Trader

I could feel her even before I laid eyes on her. Standing in a 5x5 elevator going to God knows where, twiddling my over-dry, over-sensitive thumbs, staring at a grainy red carpet that had been there longer than I’d been alive and listening to the utterly boring and monotonous elevator music beating rhythms, hopeless rhythms in my head, I began to take myself into account and wonder if I was ready for whomever was about to grace my presence. I looked down to see my ratty combat boots- at least 5 years old wandering half way up my calf- protected from the harsh winter only by thermal underwear grandmother had bought me 3 years ago. A tattered black skirt dangled over those, paired with a simple t-shirt covered by my black hoodie I still to this day will never give up. Heh, I thought I was styling, but I already knew this girl was out of my league.

Her very smell preceded her. She was icy- the smell of the frost on a cold winter morning. Frigid- almost unfeeling, but I would penetrate that. Then, after the chill up my spine of the thought, she stepped in. One stark red heel made its way across the threshold as my eyes began to climb up her body. Every move she made was like a ballerina moving in slow motion across a stage filled with meaningless core dancers- slow and concise, graceful and flawless.

My eyes began to measure her up, moving from her red heels up her nude pantyhose that clung from calf to thigh, ending only where the beige suit that shaped every curve of her body took over. An angelic face is where my stare ended, a perfect complexion unscathed by foreign foundations or runny eyeliners and mascara. Her brite green eyes seemed the only outlet for her frigid existence. Confined in a business suit where her natural blonde hair stayed in place 18 hours of a 30 hour day- my heart felt for her, as did my imagination that was already beginning to undress her as she just stood in front of me- stepping into that elevator. I named her in my head- she was Sherry, and I was going to rescue her from her mundane existence. She was everything I wasn’t- and vice versa- together we would be complete. In my head she was already my girlfriend of two years and we were planning a wedding in March when the winter was on a siesta. She just stood there frozen in my line of vision as I imagined a future with this woman confined to a two-piece beige suit and pink fingernail polish. It wasn’t even chipped, not like mine.

At last, she looked up to me, and barely smiled. She Loves me, I thought, as I smiled back. Slowly Sherry turned around to press down the floor of her destination- so sexual in every move that she made. My eyes followed her every move as her pink fingertip pressed down the number one on the control panel. I sighed- the same floor. We were meant to be.

And then- I noticed a blemish peeking from beneath her collar- unrustled a bit I’m sure from the day behind her, yet still unforgivable. Then, I see a snag in her pantyhose. I look up in a disarray; feeling abandoned, cheated, and then, i notice the brown roots bleeding from her scalp into a bleached blonde hair. She’s not at all who I thought she was. She has betrayed me. I will not let her get away with this though, I think, and reach out to touch her shoulder- to approach this woman who has lied to me in some way. At that exact moment in time she turned to me. She’s about to beg for forgiveness I think. She opens her mouth—it’s over now. She’s a valley girl from So Cal- how could I have ever trusted that bitch?! She was everything I never wanted to be, but am.