A blur of black came into focus. She squinted her eyes, as the world around her drifted away into a gentle hum. The image before her sharpened, as it formed into a significant shape. A pair of mesh charcoal-coloured trainers came into focus. Dried dirt scuffed at the toe and edges of the fabric. The laces were loosely tied, with the loop and aglet tucked deep beneath the shoe’s tongue, as though they had been pulled on and off many times, without undoing the laces. Her expression stiffened, as she narrowed her brows. A breathy hum escaped her, as she concentrated hard. The thumping in her chest beat slow, but loud. Pulse pounded in her ears. Poking out from the trainers were a pair of faded black socks, with a splodge of a vibrant, parrot green, almost hidden by the legs of ebony-coloured jeans. She heard her name. A flutter tingled in her chest. Her lips parted. ‘That voice,’ she thought, as the warmth inside of her spread.
“Sorry,” spoke the deep, familiar, male voice. She gasped. Her stomach swirled around in a circumbendibus. Colour rushed to her cheeks. ‘It’s him. It’s really him,’ she cried to herself, as her vision blurred. ‘He’s really here. He’s sorry. He means it.’ She sniffed, as a salty sting prickled the inner corners of her eyes.
“Josette!” called a female voice, in the distance. “Josette!” Gasping, the red-head threw her vision over her right shoulder. A lady with a bob of silver hair hobbled towards her, with a wrinkled brow. “Josette!” she cried. “I’ve lost my car. I don’t know what to do.” The lady trembled before her. The red-head threw her arms around the older lady and held her close.
“It’s okay, Tracey,” she spoke in a soft tone. “I’ll help you find it. We’ll look together.”
“Oh thank you,” cried the older lady, as she gripped onto the red-head’s elbow. “I just didn’t know what t’ do. It was there. I know it was. I parked right outside of work. I always do. My old man’s gonna kill me, I’ve lost our car.” A trembling wailed cry left the older lady’s mouth, as the creases on her forehead deepened. Her bottom lip quaked, as her eyes quivered.
Josette gave Tracey’s arm a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay,” the red-head reassured her, in a soft, soothing voice. “You’re not alone. We’ll find your car together. It’s okay.” With a gentle tug, the red-head led the older lady back in the direction of their workplace. Stroking her colleagues arm all the while, a knot formed in the red-head’s stomach, as she thought back to that familiar male voice and the pair of trainers. ‘Was it real?’ she wondered. ‘Was he real? Was any of it real?’
- Josie -
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