The surface spread out before her a dark grainy oak. Its varnish worn, but still so smooth in some places it reflected like a mirror.  Sunlight glinting off the glass beyond her focus encouraged her to put her sunglasses back on. The seat beside her empty. The detritus of passengers past; those who’d found no purchase. She’d arrived at the magic third. The temperature perfectly balanced between chilled and that of her own body.  The place where the dwindling foam formed an oasis of clarity. The solution to all life’s problems, the source of all its question. It was here, in her hand. The froth that spanned the inside rim of the glass was everything. The entire universe, every atom; all the dust and gas that coalesced around a distant star. It was the next step and the footfall that came with it. The catch and the recovery. The essence of freedom and confinement alike. All the colors in their most intense, saturated beauty. And all the grays, blues and silvers of an overcast sky. She sat contemplating the enormity of something so grand it could only be encapsulated by something so small and so average. Just as quickly as she’d found herself there, the spell was broken.

“Can I get you another beer there hon?

She tipped her head back, consuming the profundity of the moment in one last gulp. With one small drip on her lip, and a slight upturn of her cheek, she was emphatic.
“Yes Ma’am!”

~ by namderf on April 18, 2014.