A short story
I ensure I touch her mind, before I touch her body, which touches her soul. — Henery X (Excerpt from my offering, My Peace)
2022, Henery X ©
Samantha Jackson rose from rest with a chip on her shoulder. She had thought her boyfriend of just over two-years was going to propose to her last night. But he informed her he wanted out of their relationship. His reason? He didn’t feel they were compatible. Funny, they had enough compatibility for him to make love to her a week before his devastating revelation, was her thought after hearing the said reason.
“That lousy ass loser,” Samantha said, and her tone was laced with aggression. The thirty-five-year-old African American beauty’s well cared for feet moved across the plush carpeting of her dimly lit bedroom and were leading her to the bathroom. Her five foot eight, hundred and seventy-five pound voluptuous frame, was just as bare as her feet were, and was just as appealing as well. She made it to her destination and stared in a full-length mirror. “Damn, Sam. You’re hotter than the month of July,” she said with confidence. She giggled afterward. But her joy was short-lived, as her mind flashed back to Jason Wilson’s deception. “That lousy ass loser,” she said once more, and her tone was a bit more aggressive than before.
Samantha now sat in the kitchen of her high-rise apartment, which was in Manhattan. Being a successful architect afforded her such luxuries as the said apartment and her dream car, a 2022, four-door, snow white Porsche. She was dressed in jogging apparel because she had intentions of going for a morning run, but heavy rain stopped that idea. Not being able to go for her run made her more upset. She thought the moment would take her mind off her troubles. Her cellphone vibrated on the kitchen table. She wasn’t in the mood to talk, but she picked the device up to see who was calling her. A weak smile appeared on her face, immediately after seeing who it was.
“Hey, K’,” Samantha said. She attempted to sound cheerful, but it was to no avail.
“Hey you too, Sam’,” Karen Peel said. Karen was Samantha’s closest friend, everything she knew, Karen knew, and vice versa. “How are you this rainy a.m., sis’?”
“I’m not doing so good, K’. That damn man really had me fooled. Plus, this damn rain spoiled my plans of attempting to running this feeling up off of me.”
“Jason is a jerk. But hey, we can’t expect a boy to do a man’s job. He looks the part, but his actions show he’s nothing more than a little boy. Don’t worry, karma is going to pay his ass a visit before long.”
Samantha smiled, “You always know exactly what to say, to make me feel better,” she said sincerely.
“Isn’t that what best friends are for? To cheer us up when no one else can. Hey, the rain has let up. You just may make that run after all.”
Samantha got up from the kitchen table and walked over to an enormous picture window. “Damn, just barely sprinkling now. I can do just barely sprinkling, girl.”
“Hey, Sam’. I just had a funny thought. What if your mood was responsible for the weather?” Karen said cheerfully. She and Samantha laughed.
“That would be funny, and powerful as well. Hum, imagine that. Well, K’. Let me get off this phone and go get my run on. I love you.”
“I love you so much more. Be safe. And let’s get together later. Have some dinner. My treat.”
“I’ll be safe. And dinner sounds great, especially, the my treat part,” both women laughed. Samantha ended their call. “Now why the hell am I thinking about the controlling the weather thing? I guess because it would be an awesome ability to possess. Damn, that would be so nice.” She hunched her shoulders and went out for her a.m. run.
Be sure to tune in tomorrow for the conclusion of, The Storm. Trust me, you want be disappointed.
Thank you for taking the time to acknowledge my offering.
Remember. I’m not here to convince you to believe. I’m here to offer you something else to consider.
May we never lose our desire to outdo what we’ve already done.
Peace, Love, and the utmost Respect.