Corridor

As she walked down the corridor, fingertip trailing circles passing each door. “Svelte silouette” snickers the whimiscal wallpaper decor`.  Her gait changed just before the end of the unguided tour, pausing slowly at the opened, naked red door.
A slight tilt of the head, eyes gazing left and to right, as if traffic were passing thru her soul, caution the yellow light.  Stealth Prada heel beckons the next move, ahh the difference between corporate carpet and tile groove.  Such emotion, so little, so huge.
Photos of faces from unfamiliar places, neither here nor there.  Glancing self-assured through the passing flair.  I imagined the woman in black silk did her own hair.  I toyed with that notion as if I really cared.
Whispers of “Did she come alone?” was the page in chapter.  Saunters to the bar, noting the importance of jagged ice as a point of reference only after.  Was she nervous?  Came not a chortle nor laughter.
Drinking first sip, eyes lifted as if taking a head count would matter, smiling softly, barely a laugh, imagining the room in prisms of shatter.  At a muted, yet agreeable point, take solace in a Chintz chair, collectively remembering why I am justifiably unmedicated here.  Makes a mental note that the buffet was quite bare, accepting if it were there.
Tick tock, tick tock, time flies when you are having fun.  Shutter at making that mindless, simple pun.  Slowing gasps in, exhales a small whine, oh people, this party, sigh sigh sigh.
From the photographs dusted with grace, a mutual glance is received; how I did notice they were framed in 5 x 8  brass leaves.
The unmentionable  ’party was delightful’ was said by not heard.  Yet fleeting thoughts of  ‘thank you for coming’ and kissing the temple was the cure. 
Stealth Prada heel beckons the curtain call, walks the runway, catwalk and all.  The corridor welcomes me with opened arms, my soul enchanted, as such I am charmed
Has the weather cooled?… pulling up my houndstooth collar, questioning with each step. 
How I do prefer the evening and the secrets kept. *a pink petal drops…*
 

© Jemfyr
Revolution Elements by Blozard. Original WP theme by Jason Schuller | Distributed by Deluxe Templates