Humble Realizations

Amélie sat down on her chair in the balcony brooding about what had just happened. She lost track of time and didn’t realize 30 minutes had already passed until her phone rang and Liza stood up and looked in its direction. Amélie threw the cigarette she was smoking and grabbed her phone off the table next to her to realize it was her colleague video calling her. “There is no need to answer,” she thought after checking the time which was 9:45,”I know why they’re calling”. She was late for her job. So she put her phone down and went into the bathroom and took a quick shower which she followed by drying her hair and herself up and dressing in her formal attire. She applied some fond de teint on her face and some dark rouge on her lips, then she made her blond hair into a ponytail. She contemplated into her fine figure in the mirror for a second:   she observed her blue eyes and figured she doesn’t need mascara and her cheeks seemed rosy enough today; no more cosmetics req

After they finished with the dinner, they washed the plates and forks used and Pierre suggested that they rest a little by drinking what is left in the bottle of wine and stretching on the sofa. There wasn’t much wine left, though. The bottle was already halved when they started dining. So Amélie sat down at the right end of the sofa and Lisa came running to her and positioned herself on her lap, and Pierre sat down at the other end fearing that Liza would attack him. "Are you seriously still afraid of her?" asked Amélie with eyes wide open. She had quite the expressive face. "I don't particularly like dogs. Let alone wolfdogs." "No but it's fine," she said while caressing Liza. "Come and try patting her on the head. She loves it when someone does that". "Are you sure it's safe?" "Yes, no worries. You're not the first stranger to do that to her". "Well, did the other stranger

“It's been a while since I ate something this good," he finally said. "Oh really? I thought you are living with your mother," she said with a sarcastic smile. "My mother is dead..." He responded. " Mon dieu, je suis très désolée ! " she gesticulated feverously. "That was a joke. I'm living alone and most of my food is from restaurants or simple stuff like French omelette I cook at home- you got that part right". "Well, don't you visit your parents every once in a while?" she enquired while slurping spaghetti and sipping wine. "Yes I do, but rarely," he answered. "And why is that?" "Because there is a whole Atlantic Ocean that I need to fly over if I wanted to see them," he answered jokingly. "Wait, you're not French?" "No I'm not. I'm Canadian from Montréal, Québec," he answered. "Really? Your accent looked

Pierre held the door from slamming shut just in the right time. He entered the building where Amélie is living and saw that she was taking the elevator. She held the door of the elevator with her arm, and she waved at him, "What are you waiting for?" When Pierre got into the elevator, it was very narrow and the space very tight. The building was probably as old as the Revolution of Bread. So without even thinking about it, Pierre slowly moved his gaze to her just like he did on the metro, but this time Amélie smiled and told him, “Don’t get any thoughts, monseigneur ”. He smiled and gesticulated back, “Who said I am getting any?” She just looked at him and said “Yeah, whatever”. The elevator beeped and the doors opened. Both of them stepped out of it with Pierre hinting at how claustrophobic it was, and then they made their ways to her apartment. She brought the keys out of her bag and rotated them to the left on the door knob. The lock clicked, the ke

It has been a long day for him. He was tired and his attention span at this point wouldn't probably surpass that of a goldfish. He descended the stairs to finally get to the subway station, and then he waved his monthly pass on the entrance machine. It beeped, the entrance bar rolled and he got onto the platform. The station was Porte Dauphine, the last station on metro line N°2 which extends to the western region of Paris. He got to the platform, and he checked the elctronic sign hanged from the ceiling and it indicated that the next metro is expected to arrive in 5 minutes. Time was 18:17. Pierre had a headache which clouded his mind the entire day, and his eyes were burning because of the exposure to the strong cold wind above ground which he never grew used to. He sat down at some bench waiting for the next metro and meanwhile started thinking about some random stuff that happened on that day. A few minutes later, the metro had come. The operator voice

Many people nowadays think that anxiety and introversion two seperate things while in fact they both go hand-in-hand, one nurturing the other. A man may take to drink because he feels himself to be a failure, and then fail all the more completely because he drinks. George Orwell, Politics and the English Language Anxiety: a timeline Let's face it. If you grew up in a decent family where they care about raising a good child, surely you were told what to do and whatnot. Of course you'd get spanked or punished every once in a while sparkling a short-term trauma to prevent you from repeating the mistake. What this does, besides conditioning you to prevent the punished behaviour, is that it makes you understand deep in your skull that some things are WRONG and some things are RIGHT. You get to filter your actions and words through the lenses of "Is this appropriate to express? Is this the right thing to do?" And after life hits you with its slings and arrows