Epilogue
Helga G Pataki looked out the window of the plane, as it soared over London, as streaks of golden rays spilled across the black nothingness, soon, dawn would arise against the breathtakingly beautiful sky. She was in a state of trans; she was blanked from life into a little nook that consisted of the sky and the music from her headphones, the sight of the screen of her laptop. It wasn't going to be long now. Soon, the plane would land, she would step onto the ground, and find herself in a peculiar new place, a place where she would be able to start clean yet again, a place where she could heal and forget about the horrors of the past. What a place this was indeed! She had her life before her; after all, she was only twenty-eight. She sighed and took off her headphones.
"Excuse me," she said to a passing flight attendant.
"Yes?" she smiled.
"How much longer?"
"Not so long."
"Can I have some chardonnay, please?" she asked.
"Certainly, Miss Pataki," the stewardess replied, "Wait just a moment."
Helga smiled and looked back at the computer. On it, she saw her current bank balance; fifty billion dollars resided in several accounts that belonged to her. This was what remained of BBB, what Football Head, Inc. had good-naturedly designated to her after selling the company. Helga was going to make sure that the money was put to a new use.
Financially, she was bound for the most extraordinarily unthinkable. Emotionally, however--- To phrase her impending, unstoppable thoughts more correctly, they must be molded into poetic form, bounded by lines, restrained by anagrams.
Is love existent? I do not believe it is.
Or if it is, it is not the right kind.
I fall in love on every single day,
With every man who's clear complexion shined.
But then I met someone with whom, I thought,
I had experienced true bliss.
Something outside of normalcy,
Of indignation and abyss.
But I admit that I made a mistake.
He and I merely were not meant to be.
I put myself up for a high stake,
And quickly leveled to a low degree.
I did not love him, nor do I right now,
My heart is frozen and my mind is clear,
And at this time, I must accept
That I will never call someone "My dear."
What causes this, if true love never did exist,
That drives a woman to insanity,
To give up everything and not resist,
To the clutches of abducting vanity?
Is it better to having had and lost,
Or not to having had at all?
To having always lived in winter,
Or watching summer dwindle into fall?
My hair is tangled and my mind made up.
I will give up on this impertinent dawn.
Although I have nothing to live for,
I must find courage to live on.
Suddenly, a thought popped into Helga's mind. Perhaps, her heart had not been broken at all. Perhaps she did not love Arnold enough for him to have such an effect on her physiology. Perhaps these years amounted up to nothing but a constant, heated, absolutely titanic infatuation. Perhaps true love still lay before her, perhaps true happiness was not so far away. Somewhere out there was still a man waiting for her, somewhere out there---
"We will land in the International Airport of London, England," the pilot said, "shortly, the seatbelt sign will turn on. It is fifty-five degrees Fahrenheit outside on September 18th, and the arrival time is set to six a.m. We will be arriving on time."
She grinned nostalgically.
"Here is your drink," the stewardess handed Helga the beverage.
"Thank you," she said and the attendant sped away.
"We will be arriving on time," Helga repeated to herself after watching the woman leave and sipped champagne from the tall glass.
The timing couldn't be more perfect.
THE END
Helga G Pataki looked out the window of the plane, as it soared over London, as streaks of golden rays spilled across the black nothingness, soon, dawn would arise against the breathtakingly beautiful sky. She was in a state of trans; she was blanked from life into a little nook that consisted of the sky and the music from her headphones, the sight of the screen of her laptop. It wasn't going to be long now. Soon, the plane would land, she would step onto the ground, and find herself in a peculiar new place, a place where she would be able to start clean yet again, a place where she could heal and forget about the horrors of the past. What a place this was indeed! She had her life before her; after all, she was only twenty-eight. She sighed and took off her headphones.
"Excuse me," she said to a passing flight attendant.
"Yes?" she smiled.
"How much longer?"
"Not so long."
"Can I have some chardonnay, please?" she asked.
"Certainly, Miss Pataki," the stewardess replied, "Wait just a moment."
Helga smiled and looked back at the computer. On it, she saw her current bank balance; fifty billion dollars resided in several accounts that belonged to her. This was what remained of BBB, what Football Head, Inc. had good-naturedly designated to her after selling the company. Helga was going to make sure that the money was put to a new use.
Financially, she was bound for the most extraordinarily unthinkable. Emotionally, however--- To phrase her impending, unstoppable thoughts more correctly, they must be molded into poetic form, bounded by lines, restrained by anagrams.
Is love existent? I do not believe it is.
Or if it is, it is not the right kind.
I fall in love on every single day,
With every man who's clear complexion shined.
But then I met someone with whom, I thought,
I had experienced true bliss.
Something outside of normalcy,
Of indignation and abyss.
But I admit that I made a mistake.
He and I merely were not meant to be.
I put myself up for a high stake,
And quickly leveled to a low degree.
I did not love him, nor do I right now,
My heart is frozen and my mind is clear,
And at this time, I must accept
That I will never call someone "My dear."
What causes this, if true love never did exist,
That drives a woman to insanity,
To give up everything and not resist,
To the clutches of abducting vanity?
Is it better to having had and lost,
Or not to having had at all?
To having always lived in winter,
Or watching summer dwindle into fall?
My hair is tangled and my mind made up.
I will give up on this impertinent dawn.
Although I have nothing to live for,
I must find courage to live on.
Suddenly, a thought popped into Helga's mind. Perhaps, her heart had not been broken at all. Perhaps she did not love Arnold enough for him to have such an effect on her physiology. Perhaps these years amounted up to nothing but a constant, heated, absolutely titanic infatuation. Perhaps true love still lay before her, perhaps true happiness was not so far away. Somewhere out there was still a man waiting for her, somewhere out there---
"We will land in the International Airport of London, England," the pilot said, "shortly, the seatbelt sign will turn on. It is fifty-five degrees Fahrenheit outside on September 18th, and the arrival time is set to six a.m. We will be arriving on time."
She grinned nostalgically.
"Here is your drink," the stewardess handed Helga the beverage.
"Thank you," she said and the attendant sped away.
"We will be arriving on time," Helga repeated to herself after watching the woman leave and sipped champagne from the tall glass.
The timing couldn't be more perfect.
THE END