The Merge: Le Cirque

Write at the Merge: Week 21

Write up to 500 words using the prompt "petrichor".

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Bustling through the crowded streets on a hot summer day trying not to look too wilted, Phoebe, noticed a scent reminding her of petrichor. Her mind immediately shifted to her time in the Arizona desert when she and Nate were caught in the brief sun shower. The red clay beneath their feet pooled like fingerpaint, and they drew designs on each other's arms. She had drawn a heart on his.

Jolted out of her daydream by a blaring horn, she felt pressure on her arm and heard a familiar voice, "Whoa, not so fast!" The hand pulled her back from harm's way. Was she still daydreaming? Slowly turning her head, she confirmed her suspicion.

"Nate! Ummm...thank you. What are you doing here?" She tried not to sound too stunned or awkward. Their break up had been odd, but she had moved on with her life. She quickly pushed down any lingering feelings of love she held for him to guard her fragile emotions.

"I'm in town for a meeting. What a surprise to see you rushing past me! How are you?"

Why was he so at ease speaking to her knowing he must be stirring up her emotions. Was he that over her? It hurt to think that their love had vanished from his being so completely. "Fine," she smiled meekly. "I'm late for a meeting, but it was good to see you." She was turning to walk away when once again he held her back.

"Catch up for dinner tonight? Two friends?" Nate’s hypnotic eyes gazed at her. “Le Cirque at 8?”

“Sure,” Phoebe mumbled. She smiled at him and quickly darted across the street with the mass of strangers. How could he be so relaxed and aloof when she was now like a tightly wound ball of string about to unravel at any moment? How would she make it through dinner pretending not to care? She didn’t even have his phone number to call and make an excuse, although she could leave a message with the restaurant.

In the elevator on her way up to the 22nd floor, she was able to compose herself sufficiently for her presentation.

“Good morning, Ms. Sinclair. The conference room at the end of the hall.”

“Thank you, Charlotte,” answered Phoebe, her transformation to professional advertising executive now complete.


Words: 388