Emelia Maria' Letter
Emelia Maria Coello stared into the mirror in her hotel room on Fairfield and Park Avenue near the newly opened Outside Sports Center. Reaching into a small pink bag she removed a round container and opened it up. Touching her finger tip to the colored contact lens, she placed it over an eye and blinked it into place. After she placed the second one in, she stood back and stared at her reflection as if she waited for a response. An approval so to speak.
Emelia stood there for several minutes before she turned away. Then she walked into the living room of the top floor suite. She removed an envelope from the coffee table and opened it removing the letter she read several times before. She read it again as if the results would be different.
Despair walked toward her like a shadow, paused and just stared.
Stuttering over to the window she opened it and smelled the good old April air. Spring was finally taking over the extended winter. It was the sweet smell of life that filled her nostrils. She wiped the inside of the window with the palm of her hand removing the condensation that lingered after her long hot shower.
She looked back at the coffee table where she put the letter down, and noticed that the table was filled with cigarette ashes. The ash tray was overflowing with butts and the carpet beneath it was a complete mess. There was also a twenty dollar bill she left for the chamber maids so that they wouldn't be to upset about the mess.
Her confidence was assembled near the window pane as she took in another deep breath. She chose this part of the day because the new sports complex was not scheduled to open for several more hours. She didn't want a parade of people wrapped up in her certain failure. The letter was clear and precise. She had cancer and she had reached the final stages of it. She took one more look around her suite and then made her exit...