pulse

Jordan’s fingers traced the corners of the folded receipt which held his first-drafted sketch. An anxious excitement pulsed through his nervous system. It felt like a key, an unlocking, a dangerous tick-tocking of a time bomb. It was just an idea - and yet…

For twenty-three years he’d given them his best, his youth, his heart, his mornings, weekends, and evenings. Relationships had folded, social gatherings been cancelled, birthdays spent on planes and anniversaries sorely missed. He shouldn’t look back, should have no regret on wanting more, and yet…

The story he had crafted in his not-so-spiritual mind’s eye had sold him a different life. It had promised a more certain future. But this, this innocent sketch of an idea, pulsating simultaneously through his bloodstream, and through the pressure of his enclosed fingertips, this whispered something more, something else entirely. 

His learned fears and guilt crept below his Adam's apple, threatening to choke his excitement. But that small whisper in the back of his lung bed promised, “take just one step.” Is it throwing it all away if it was never really yours? How long do tadpoles mourn their tails until they forget they ever were there. 

Jordan took a quick inhale through his nostrils, slowly unfolding the face-down receipt. The outline lassoed his heartbeat and pulled him in again. As if staring into a mirror, he bravely nodded. Reaching for his cell phone, he began to dial, taking just one step.

-b

July 6, 2020

Photo Credit: David Heslop