Misreading the signals

Word of the Day – Emphatically

It was late in the afternoon and we lay together on a blanket spread out by the bank of the river. A young mother stood to our left with her son, both of them pointing excitedly at a family of ducks that had ventured out in fleet-like formation from the protective hideaway of the reeds. We could hear the little voice of the child as he carefully counted each duckling.

Other than that we were alone. A gentle breeze brought with it the first of the evening chill pressing light clothing against her skin. The sun, in the mood for seduction, made its way through the cotton of her dress and purposefully traced the lines of her body. Time, for a moment, stood still.

She smiled as I poured the last of the champagne into her glass and I could feel her eyes as she looked carefully towards me as if scrutinising my face for flaws.

“Brutus,” she whispered at last, “do you love me?”

It was a pivotal moment and one to be respected. It was a question to which the answer would remain forever etched into personal history. And so I paused momentarily and attempted to convey a look of romantic intoxication whilst I dug deep into my emotional stocks for a worthy reply.

“Absolutely emphatically,” I told told her with tenderness.

She sat up suddenly and pulled away from me. These were not, evidently, the kind of words she had been fishing for. I wondered, for a moment, if there may have been something wrong with my pronunciation. Something important that had gone missing in translation.

“What did you say?”

“Emphatically,” I repeated, “absolutely.”

I recognised my mistake in the shape of her eyes. She had been looking for something more spontaneous, more instinctual, more animalistic.

Not only her eyes, but her whole body had turned against me with contempt.

“What are you,” she hissed, “A fucking librarian?”

3 thoughts on “Misreading the signals

  1. Having just woken up and viewing the image through half opened eyes, I thought it was a trail of something else behind the mother duck…

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.