What a wonderful day this will be

“What a wonderful day this will be,” George said aloud to no one. He often talked to no one, since he lived alone and had no pets. He rolled out of bed, freshened up in the bathroom, got dressed and left his studio apartment on the upper east side of town.

Normally, he would hail a taxi to get to work but today he decided to walk. It was only twenty or so blocks and he needed the exercise. The sun was bright and warm even though it was only April. The wind was light, adding just the right amount of chill to the air. The streets were mostly empty. Looking at his watch, he found he was very early. He would have time to stop for a bite to eat on the way.

Entering the next bistro along his casual stroll to the office, he greeted the smiling waitress with a big grin of his own. She motioned for him to seat himself and he did. He hardly ever had time for a sit-down meal, especially breakfast. He had over an hour to kill so he could actually enjoy this particular feast. Who knew when he would be able to again? He ordered and as he waited he noticed people had begun to trickle in to the café. When the food came, he lingered on every bite, savoring the nuances of the over-easy eggs, cooked to perfection; the cloud-like disks of heaven, that they called flapjacks; sausage links that could not have been better, just crisp enough to ‘pop’ when bitten, and coffee just the way he liked it; sweet and creamy.

As he finished, he watched the rush of people coming and going, getting their double half-caff Americanos, Carmel Macchiatos with three shots, or Frappuccino with heavy whip. They all seemed so hurried, so impatient, so angry. They were missing so much. If only they would just slow down and take in the beauty around them.

It was at that moment he noticed her. She was tall, but not too tall. Not taller than his five-foot-eleven frame at any rate. She didn’t just walk in, she sauntered. He loved to watch people saunter. There was just something about the air of calm exuded by those who sauntered. Especially women. Most of the time women had so much on their minds that they walked with a ‘determined to get through my list’ stride. She sauntered, and seemed to radiate calm to all those around her. The sharp feeling of stress and anxiety, that he had sensed building since people had flowed into the café, began to ebb away. She looked at him and then offered a warm smile, almost as if she knew him. He stood, smiling, offering the chair across the table without saying a word, just a slight nod of his head towards the chair. He was not very good with women; especially pretty women like her. To his surprise, she accepted. This day just keeps getting better and better, he thought.

“Hi. I’m Agatha, but please call me Aggie. You?” she said melodically.

“Hi Aggie, I’m George.” He replied, “I just finished but I’m in no particular hurry. If you don’t mind the company?”

“Not at all. Hate to eat alone.”

George motioned for the waitress and Aggie ordered. Small talk ensued until her food came. Then George just kept talking while she ate. He took note that she had ordered almost the same breakfast. Everything except the flapjacks. He had not known many women who ate eggs over easy.

“I’m in advertising. I work uptown. Figured I’d walk today. It being so nice and all.” George began. She nodded and took a sip of her coffee. “Meeting you is like a bonus,” George concluded.

“I always come to this bistro. Always eat alone; though I hate eating alone. Said that already, didn’t I?” She said as she snickered and playfully bonked her forehead with her hand.

“I never walk, always take a cab. Seem to run late all the time but not this morning. I woke early. It was beautiful out so I decided to walk and take in all the beauty that I never see.” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head indicating that he included her in that statement. She blushed slightly.

“Awe, you’re sweet, and not so bad yourself.” she smiled at him. He thought he noticed a glint in her eye that was not there before. She smiles with her eyes, he thought.

‘I work uptown too and always walk. Go together?’ She said, while simultaneously standing and opening her purse. George raised his hand, indicating he would get the check. He quickly checked the total, retrieved more than enough from his wallet, left it on the table and walked with Aggie to the door.

This morning, George did not have a care in the world. He was walking to work with a beautiful woman chatting about whatever.

“Not married?” Aggie asked. “I peeked at your ‘I do’ finger at the bistro.” She glanced down at his left hand.

“Nope. Have yet to find that special someone. How about you? I too am guilty of stealing a glance at your left digits,” He replied playfully.

“Once. Didn’t last. Cheater,” She stated very calmly.

“On you? Hard to believe.” His honesty was clear. She was just so beautiful. At least to him. Shoulder length auburn hair, fair skin, and a great build. George had a type, as most men he knew did. George had decided to give his type a nickname. Porridge. It was an odd nickname, he knew. He’d taken it from the Goldilocks fairy tale and it seemed to fit. At five-foot-eleven, he didn’t like to look up to a woman. He didn’t know why. He just didn’t. He also didn’t like to stoop over, if by chance a kiss was called for. He didn’t like women who were either too thin or too heavy, or for that matter, who were too meek or too bossy. His type was somewhere in the middle of each of these qualities and Aggie fit. She was porridge. She was just right. Why would anyone cheat on her?

“I know, huh? I take care of myself and don’t look too bad,” she paused “and I can cook too.” She added a bit of emphasis on ‘cook’. Then she winked and smiled at George. He could tell she wasn’t boasting, just acknowledging.

They walked and talked for several more blocks, covering most of the basics; where they were originally from, that they both liked to cook, and finally what Aggie did for a living, just as they reached her building. A five-story red brick building with ornate concrete gargoyles overlooking the street from the roofline and concrete lions keeping watch on each side of the stairs. This was an old building. Aggie was an Architect. George noticed that her full name and title, “Agatha Pincer – Residential Architect”, were on the sign next to the door, along with the other occupants of her building. Each company listed on the sign occupied a single floor. Two law offices, a psychiatrist, a chiropractor and Aggie’s architecture offices, which were on the top floor. Her being an Architect was impressive, though not surprising. His years in advertising had made it easier to spot others with artistic talents and Aggie seemed the type.

“This is me.” Aggie dug around in her purse, pulled out a business card, and wrote on the back. “Call me later. We can see where this is going.”

He smiled, looked at the number she had written, nodded and began to say he would, when she leaned in gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek. This time it was he who blushed.

“Nothing could keep me from calling you,” he said. She smiled, turned and seemed to glide up the concrete stairs, subconsciously running her hand across the lion as she passed it, up to the front door of the building. She stopped just before entering, turned and waved with just her finger tips. Then George turned and continued the few remaining steps to the corner. A huge smile adorned his face. He could not have been happier.

“What a wonderful day this will be…” but just as the words came out of his mouth for the second time today, a runaway cab hopped the curb. He didn’t see it coming. He didn’t hear it. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts of the potential future with Aggie. He didn’t feel it pin him to the brick wall of Aggie’s building. His last thoughts were of her. His last feelings were bliss, hope and love.

Jeff Boothe

Written: May 5, 2010

Updated: Nov 5, 2016

1452 words