Distractions
By Joan Schuck
The busy work-a-day world went about its daily routine. The cars stopped for the pedestrians--steaming café lattes in one hand, briefcases in the other--as they trudged through bustling Boston crosswalks. The monumental stoplight commanded the occupants of accidents-waiting-to-happen intersections, like a maestro conducts his orchestra. But even the dictating red, yellow, and green lights seem dwarfed by the towering skyscrapers of the metropolitan.
Inside the law firm of Cage and Fish, she sat at her cluttered desk, slowly leafing through her client's case file. Her slender fingers played with her lips, as the other hand nervously fidgeted with a ballpoint pen. Her outfit is one part power suit, two parts trendy flair. She proceeded to tap the pen in rhythmic motions on the surface of the mahogany desk. She turned her head, raised it slightly to look expectantly at the man standing behind her, reading the same file over her shoulder. He leaned closer to read the fine print. Their faces on the same plane. The room was still, save for the "tap, tap, tap" of her pen and the occasional rustle of clothing, and she was close enough to hear him breathe. The silence was deafening.
A second man across from them interrupted the quiet. He coughed forcefully; the thick-framed eyeglasses perched on the bridge of his nose falling just, as he tried to dislodge the milk chocolate M&M caught in his throat. Feeling the annoyed glares from the others in the room, Larry Paul sheepishly cleared his throat, muttering an apology. His composure was not softened by the incident, however. He used an index finger to tame his glasses and resumed his snacking, as if nothing had happened.
Mark Albert raised his eyebrows in question, directed to the woman next to him. "Okay, I didn't ask before, but what's he still doing here?"
"I--I, um, I don't... know," Ally McBeal replied. "He just followed me here."
"Well, I can't concentrate with him staring." Mark passed by the chair Larry occupied as he moved to leave, clearly overwrought with discomfort. "I'll be back to go over the case... later." He punctuated the last word, shooting an accusing gaze at the back of Larry's head.
"Don't flatter yourself, Mark," he retorted without turning. Larry felt unusually confrontational, he wasn't too keen about the way Mark closed the proximity between him and his... Before he finished his thought, he stopped himself and noted that he was acting like a typical Neanderthal, alpha male. Or whatever. Expecting a comeback, he was instead answered by the angry slam of the door. He shrugged nonchalantly and considered himself the victor left to his spoils, exclaiming, "Finally!" He stopped mid-celebration as he caught Ally giving him a disdainful look.
"What?" he asked innocently. His naiveté, or perhaps his dramatic skills, melted away her annoyance and replaced it with a reluctant, but stiff, smile.
"Sweetie," Ally began, "um, what are you doing... here?" She used hand gestures to point downwards, indicating her office. "You said you wanted to walk me to work--which was very sweet of you, by the way--and, and you just never left!" She tried to feign frustration with each word that left her mouth to mask her weak poise against his irresistible charisma, and closed the thick manila folder, setting it atop the pile, along with the rest of the day's agenda.
Larry put on a sincerely apologetic face with his hurt puppy-dog look, complete with a protruding, pouty lower lip. He rose from his seat and walked around the desk to directly face her, and looked deep into Ally's eyes, catching Ally completely off-guard. Okay, what is he doing?
"Look," Larry began, "I'm sorry for being such a nuisance today, I'm trying hard not to get in the way, and I promise you that this will be the first and the last time I will follow you to work. It's just that I wanted--you know--to see you in action." Ally stared cautiously at the man in front of her, eyes squinting just so, like she always did when she was in deep thought. "But more importantly, I just came back from Detroit. What I'm doing is simply making up for lost time. Can you blame me for that?" Larry paused for a moment to deliver a dramatic sigh. He surprised her, as he took both her hands in his. Using his grasp of her hands, Larry lowered himself down to genuflect on one knee, never releasing his gaze on her. Ally's previously squinted eyes opened wide at the event before her. My God, he's proposing.
A million thoughts and emotions ran quickly through Ally's brain. But Larry continued. "You know, all my life I've never loved anyone or anything like I love you. And, like I said before, I'm only at the beginning of loving you. I want to share my life and everything else with you. Ally McBeal, will you..." This time he paused mid-sentence to release one of her hands and reached in his back pocket. Oh my God, he's going for the ring. Ally instinctively closed her eyes shut, as she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She wanted to savor the feeling of this wondrous moment, twenty-nine years in the making. When she opened her eyes again, she thought for a moment that her eyes were playing tricks on her because instead of an engagement ring encased in a velvet box, she was greeted by the sight of a dog-eared, page thirteen of a mail-order catalog. More specifically, at a black leather convertible couch, circled ceremoniously by a thick, red marker.
"... Buy this couch from Sears with me?" Infuriated, Ally stormed towards the door, nearly tripping on the stack of catalogues next to the chair Larry occupied. After regaining her balance, she pierced a final glare-both flaming and icy at once-at Larry, then slammed the door loud enough to equal a sonic boom. Meanwhile, an unaffected Larry was left alone in the empty office, and wondered out loud, "What did I say?"
The End...
DISCLAIMER: No copyright infringement intended. Characters are property of DEK, et al.
By Joan Schuck
The busy work-a-day world went about its daily routine. The cars stopped for the pedestrians--steaming café lattes in one hand, briefcases in the other--as they trudged through bustling Boston crosswalks. The monumental stoplight commanded the occupants of accidents-waiting-to-happen intersections, like a maestro conducts his orchestra. But even the dictating red, yellow, and green lights seem dwarfed by the towering skyscrapers of the metropolitan.
Inside the law firm of Cage and Fish, she sat at her cluttered desk, slowly leafing through her client's case file. Her slender fingers played with her lips, as the other hand nervously fidgeted with a ballpoint pen. Her outfit is one part power suit, two parts trendy flair. She proceeded to tap the pen in rhythmic motions on the surface of the mahogany desk. She turned her head, raised it slightly to look expectantly at the man standing behind her, reading the same file over her shoulder. He leaned closer to read the fine print. Their faces on the same plane. The room was still, save for the "tap, tap, tap" of her pen and the occasional rustle of clothing, and she was close enough to hear him breathe. The silence was deafening.
A second man across from them interrupted the quiet. He coughed forcefully; the thick-framed eyeglasses perched on the bridge of his nose falling just, as he tried to dislodge the milk chocolate M&M caught in his throat. Feeling the annoyed glares from the others in the room, Larry Paul sheepishly cleared his throat, muttering an apology. His composure was not softened by the incident, however. He used an index finger to tame his glasses and resumed his snacking, as if nothing had happened.
Mark Albert raised his eyebrows in question, directed to the woman next to him. "Okay, I didn't ask before, but what's he still doing here?"
"I--I, um, I don't... know," Ally McBeal replied. "He just followed me here."
"Well, I can't concentrate with him staring." Mark passed by the chair Larry occupied as he moved to leave, clearly overwrought with discomfort. "I'll be back to go over the case... later." He punctuated the last word, shooting an accusing gaze at the back of Larry's head.
"Don't flatter yourself, Mark," he retorted without turning. Larry felt unusually confrontational, he wasn't too keen about the way Mark closed the proximity between him and his... Before he finished his thought, he stopped himself and noted that he was acting like a typical Neanderthal, alpha male. Or whatever. Expecting a comeback, he was instead answered by the angry slam of the door. He shrugged nonchalantly and considered himself the victor left to his spoils, exclaiming, "Finally!" He stopped mid-celebration as he caught Ally giving him a disdainful look.
"What?" he asked innocently. His naiveté, or perhaps his dramatic skills, melted away her annoyance and replaced it with a reluctant, but stiff, smile.
"Sweetie," Ally began, "um, what are you doing... here?" She used hand gestures to point downwards, indicating her office. "You said you wanted to walk me to work--which was very sweet of you, by the way--and, and you just never left!" She tried to feign frustration with each word that left her mouth to mask her weak poise against his irresistible charisma, and closed the thick manila folder, setting it atop the pile, along with the rest of the day's agenda.
Larry put on a sincerely apologetic face with his hurt puppy-dog look, complete with a protruding, pouty lower lip. He rose from his seat and walked around the desk to directly face her, and looked deep into Ally's eyes, catching Ally completely off-guard. Okay, what is he doing?
"Look," Larry began, "I'm sorry for being such a nuisance today, I'm trying hard not to get in the way, and I promise you that this will be the first and the last time I will follow you to work. It's just that I wanted--you know--to see you in action." Ally stared cautiously at the man in front of her, eyes squinting just so, like she always did when she was in deep thought. "But more importantly, I just came back from Detroit. What I'm doing is simply making up for lost time. Can you blame me for that?" Larry paused for a moment to deliver a dramatic sigh. He surprised her, as he took both her hands in his. Using his grasp of her hands, Larry lowered himself down to genuflect on one knee, never releasing his gaze on her. Ally's previously squinted eyes opened wide at the event before her. My God, he's proposing.
A million thoughts and emotions ran quickly through Ally's brain. But Larry continued. "You know, all my life I've never loved anyone or anything like I love you. And, like I said before, I'm only at the beginning of loving you. I want to share my life and everything else with you. Ally McBeal, will you..." This time he paused mid-sentence to release one of her hands and reached in his back pocket. Oh my God, he's going for the ring. Ally instinctively closed her eyes shut, as she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She wanted to savor the feeling of this wondrous moment, twenty-nine years in the making. When she opened her eyes again, she thought for a moment that her eyes were playing tricks on her because instead of an engagement ring encased in a velvet box, she was greeted by the sight of a dog-eared, page thirteen of a mail-order catalog. More specifically, at a black leather convertible couch, circled ceremoniously by a thick, red marker.
"... Buy this couch from Sears with me?" Infuriated, Ally stormed towards the door, nearly tripping on the stack of catalogues next to the chair Larry occupied. After regaining her balance, she pierced a final glare-both flaming and icy at once-at Larry, then slammed the door loud enough to equal a sonic boom. Meanwhile, an unaffected Larry was left alone in the empty office, and wondered out loud, "What did I say?"
The End...
DISCLAIMER: No copyright infringement intended. Characters are property of DEK, et al.