Check it out!
I posted a new short story up to my website called:
He Has a Name?
Click this link to read it on the website.
http://www.lisambello.com/shortstories.html#aname
Or just read it here. :)
Enjoy - L.
Sigh.
Cassandra opens the vacuum package for her morning coffee. She’s
done this every morning for a year, thinking the same thing. Will this
finally be the day she tells him how she feels?
She lazily pours water into the decanter and scoops coffee into the
basket she had just lined with a fresh new filter. She switches on the
machine and with a flickering orange light and a steam surge, she starts another day.
Cassandra always prefers radio to TV.
“Television leaves too much to be desired and there is no personal
imagination left in the stories. TV is for people who need their
entertainment fed to them with a silver spoon.” is what she always says
about it.
So she turns on the stereo. It was a top notch system created piece by piece by a friend of hers whom she no longer speaks to.
She no longer speaks to a lot of people that were once in her life.
Halfway through Led Zeppelin’s “Communication Breakdown” the coffee sputters to a halt.
As she pours herself a cup, she notices that a note has been slipped
under her front door. She puts down the carafe and walks toward her
door. Across a rust colored carpet, straight to the white heavy metal
door, still bolted, chained, and locked from the night before. Hey you
can never be too safe!
A small yellowish blue card is folded in half a quarter way under
the door. The majority of the paper was facing inward towards her.
Cassandra has seen this paper before, but where? With a wrinkled brow
and curious anticipation she picks up the paper and unfolds it.
“Where you live is not where your heart lies.”
Cassandra’s face twists into a peculiar and delirious look. She has
no idea where this note came from. Either way she feels she has to keep
it on her person today. Wherever she goes. She slips the note into the
front pocket of her work pants. She turns to glance at the large red
digital clock near the door and it blares 7:45am. Looks like she’ll be
late again.
“So what else is new?” Cassandra mumbles to herself in frustration.
It’s noisy on 14th Street. The peddlers and street vendors are out
early. Better for them being that it’s only six weeks until the winter
holidays. Cassandra pulls the collar of her deep plum tweed coat
around her face and shivers.
“Damn it’s cold today!” she stammered as she crossed the street to get to the bus stop.
Sigh. Maybe he’ll come around again this morning. It always makes her day brighter just to see him.
On the bus it is warm and cozy but Cassandra can’t stop fidgeting. Damn winter skin! I get too itchy this time of year! She thought to herself. She also made a mental note to buy moisturizing soap.
As she reaches in her bag to retrieve her iPod she can’t help but
feel someone’s eyes on her. She looks up to meet the gaze of a familiar
but foreign face. A girl with long black hair done up in braids with
pink highlights, a visible tattoo crawling up the side of her neck and
layers upon layers of pink and black clothing. She adjusts her nose
ring and pretends to look away from Cassandra.
Where the hell do I know this girl from? She keeps saying over and over again in her mind.
Cassandra’s memory isn’t so sharp lately being that most of her thoughts surround a certain boy with piercing blue eyes.
Ehhh. It will come to me later. She silently concedes while
pressing the play button on the iPod. Ahh! The sound of distorted
guitar is one of Cassandra’s favorite sounds. It drowns out all the
sorrows of the world.
While running past the guards at the front desk, she flashes her ID
card and then uses it to swipe herself up to the twenty-third floor of
the massive office building.The smell of coffee and donuts hits her as
she arrives to her floor. Meeting today I suppose. She mumbles
to herself as she tries her best not to be seen sneaking into her
cubicle. Ducking low and trying not to jingle, she plops herself lightly
into her chair. But then a head pops over her cubicle wall.
“Late again huh? This must be a new record for you!” A curvaceous but
studious looking blond woman whispers to Cassandra with a raised
eyebrow.
“Shut up Ali!” Cassandra whispers back while turning on her desktop Windows computer.
“Well, I’m just saying it may be a new record for you, 45 minutes today beats your half hour of yesterday.” Ali smiles.
“I dunno Al, I just find it hard to be on time lately.” Cassandra says, with sarcasm oozing out of every syllable.
“Too much time spent looking at a pair of grey pants.” Ali chuckles with delight.
“Al, don’t make me pass a note high school style two cubicles over
to Stewie.” Cassandra says totally serious but with a smirk. Ali
shutters and gasps at that idea. Stewie is a sort of frumpy man in his
late 50s with a very bad body odor problem. He’s sweet enough but Ali
has a strong revulsion to his every way.
“Speaking of notes” Cassandra reaches into her pants pocket. “This was under my door this morning.”
Ali grabs the note with her perfectly manicured hand out of
Cassandra’s comparatively worn out ink stained one and examines it.
“Hmm...wanna know something weird Cass?” Ali says.
Cassandra’s eyebrows pique with interest.
“This paper sort of looks like the receipt I got for my lunch yesterday. It’s one of those carbon copy thingamajigs.”
Cassandra sits up straighter in her seat and asks, “Where did you eat yesterday Al? Not that Mexican place again right?”
“Oh god no!” Ali exclaims while putting a hand to her chest making a I-got-heartburn- face.I went to that place on 1st Ave.”
“That greasy spoon?” Cassandra said with a giggle. “You might as well have eaten that Mexican. Blech…”
“No really they have the best tuna melts there! Trust me! There’s
this complete rock and roll chick working in the kitchen. She must put
wonderful drugs into the food or something."
“So... has he been in yet?”
Ali rolled her eyes. “Cass, you know the mail doesn’t come in for least another hour.”
“I know! I just thought maybe by chance...”
“Thought what? That he’d come in to see the pretty girl who likes
him, but he doesn’t know she likes him because she’s too chicken to say
and...”
“Okay enough Ali! I get your point.”
“I’m just speaking truth and SOMEONE, meaning you needs to tell a
certain other SOMEONE, meaning our good-looking mailman there how she
feels.There is no ring on his finger! Worst he could say is that he has
a girlfriend. Stop being so goddamn scared!”
Cassandra knows there is nothing to be scared of really. It is just
when he looks at her with those blue eyes something inside of her
ceases to function correctly; One of these things being her ability to
properly speak.
An hour later it happens. He comes through the door with
the bag of mail for the 23rd floor. Short black brown hair only long
enough to get into his left eye, about 6 feet tall, medium build with
broad shoulders that are defined wonderfully by the cut of his uniform
jacket, and just about the firmest butt ever to be seen on a grown man,
or at least Cassandra thought so.
He makes his way around the room placing mail in the bins near the clusters of cubicles.
Cassandra watches his every move as he smiles and looks down at the
mail figuring out section names. Oh so hot. Cassandra is almost
drooling.
“Hey!” he says while plopping down the mail into the bin next to her cubicle.
“Heyyy..he..hey! Whaaat’s up?” she manages to studder out through a
flutter of butterflies in her stomach and a lump in her throat.
“Nothing much, it’s a bit chilly out there today.”
Her shock is apparent all over her face. He smiles and waits in a
courteous stance for her to speak. “It’s not he he he.. not too bad”
Cassandra can't control her girlish giggling around him.
“You know we’ve never been properly introduced. I’m Daniel. Daniel DiLuci. And you are?”
“Cass.Cassandra Dali.”
Daniel is definitely thinking to himself but does not ask if there was a Miss or Mrs. in front of her name.
“Well, nice to officially meet you Cassandra. I’m sure I’ll see you again.”
“Um..sure..Daniel.” Cassandra manages to smile at him while she
speaks. The smile back Daniel gave her causes her to become light-headed.
Then with a whiff of his light but intoxicating cologne
escaping from the confines of his polyester uniform shirt he leaves.
Cassandra almost falls off her chair as she slinks down in her seat
as low as she can go. She can hear Ali’s snickering and “Oh my
Gods” faintly through the haze of heat left in Daniel’s wake.
Now, he has a name.
I posted a new short story up to my website called:
He Has a Name?
Click this link to read it on the website.
http://www.lisambello.com/shortstories.html#aname
Or just read it here. :)
Enjoy - L.
He Has A Name? –short story by Lisa M. Bello
Sigh.
Cassandra opens the vacuum package for her morning coffee. She’s
done this every morning for a year, thinking the same thing. Will this
finally be the day she tells him how she feels?
She lazily pours water into the decanter and scoops coffee into the
basket she had just lined with a fresh new filter. She switches on the
machine and with a flickering orange light and a steam surge, she starts another day.
Cassandra always prefers radio to TV.
“Television leaves too much to be desired and there is no personal
imagination left in the stories. TV is for people who need their
entertainment fed to them with a silver spoon.” is what she always says
about it.
So she turns on the stereo. It was a top notch system created piece by piece by a friend of hers whom she no longer speaks to.
She no longer speaks to a lot of people that were once in her life.
Halfway through Led Zeppelin’s “Communication Breakdown” the coffee sputters to a halt.
As she pours herself a cup, she notices that a note has been slipped
under her front door. She puts down the carafe and walks toward her
door. Across a rust colored carpet, straight to the white heavy metal
door, still bolted, chained, and locked from the night before. Hey you
can never be too safe!
A small yellowish blue card is folded in half a quarter way under
the door. The majority of the paper was facing inward towards her.
Cassandra has seen this paper before, but where? With a wrinkled brow
and curious anticipation she picks up the paper and unfolds it.
“Where you live is not where your heart lies.”
Cassandra’s face twists into a peculiar and delirious look. She has
no idea where this note came from. Either way she feels she has to keep
it on her person today. Wherever she goes. She slips the note into the
front pocket of her work pants. She turns to glance at the large red
digital clock near the door and it blares 7:45am. Looks like she’ll be
late again.
“So what else is new?” Cassandra mumbles to herself in frustration.
It’s noisy on 14th Street. The peddlers and street vendors are out
early. Better for them being that it’s only six weeks until the winter
holidays. Cassandra pulls the collar of her deep plum tweed coat
around her face and shivers.
“Damn it’s cold today!” she stammered as she crossed the street to get to the bus stop.
Sigh. Maybe he’ll come around again this morning. It always makes her day brighter just to see him.
On the bus it is warm and cozy but Cassandra can’t stop fidgeting. Damn winter skin! I get too itchy this time of year! She thought to herself. She also made a mental note to buy moisturizing soap.
As she reaches in her bag to retrieve her iPod she can’t help but
feel someone’s eyes on her. She looks up to meet the gaze of a familiar
but foreign face. A girl with long black hair done up in braids with
pink highlights, a visible tattoo crawling up the side of her neck and
layers upon layers of pink and black clothing. She adjusts her nose
ring and pretends to look away from Cassandra.
Where the hell do I know this girl from? She keeps saying over and over again in her mind.
Cassandra’s memory isn’t so sharp lately being that most of her thoughts surround a certain boy with piercing blue eyes.
Ehhh. It will come to me later. She silently concedes while
pressing the play button on the iPod. Ahh! The sound of distorted
guitar is one of Cassandra’s favorite sounds. It drowns out all the
sorrows of the world.
While running past the guards at the front desk, she flashes her ID
card and then uses it to swipe herself up to the twenty-third floor of
the massive office building.The smell of coffee and donuts hits her as
she arrives to her floor. Meeting today I suppose. She mumbles
to herself as she tries her best not to be seen sneaking into her
cubicle. Ducking low and trying not to jingle, she plops herself lightly
into her chair. But then a head pops over her cubicle wall.
“Late again huh? This must be a new record for you!” A curvaceous but
studious looking blond woman whispers to Cassandra with a raised
eyebrow.
“Shut up Ali!” Cassandra whispers back while turning on her desktop Windows computer.
“Well, I’m just saying it may be a new record for you, 45 minutes today beats your half hour of yesterday.” Ali smiles.
“I dunno Al, I just find it hard to be on time lately.” Cassandra says, with sarcasm oozing out of every syllable.
“Too much time spent looking at a pair of grey pants.” Ali chuckles with delight.
“Al, don’t make me pass a note high school style two cubicles over
to Stewie.” Cassandra says totally serious but with a smirk. Ali
shutters and gasps at that idea. Stewie is a sort of frumpy man in his
late 50s with a very bad body odor problem. He’s sweet enough but Ali
has a strong revulsion to his every way.
“Speaking of notes” Cassandra reaches into her pants pocket. “This was under my door this morning.”
Ali grabs the note with her perfectly manicured hand out of
Cassandra’s comparatively worn out ink stained one and examines it.
“Hmm...wanna know something weird Cass?” Ali says.
Cassandra’s eyebrows pique with interest.
“This paper sort of looks like the receipt I got for my lunch yesterday. It’s one of those carbon copy thingamajigs.”
Cassandra sits up straighter in her seat and asks, “Where did you eat yesterday Al? Not that Mexican place again right?”
“Oh god no!” Ali exclaims while putting a hand to her chest making a I-got-heartburn- face.I went to that place on 1st Ave.”
“That greasy spoon?” Cassandra said with a giggle. “You might as well have eaten that Mexican. Blech…”
“No really they have the best tuna melts there! Trust me! There’s
this complete rock and roll chick working in the kitchen. She must put
wonderful drugs into the food or something."
Cassandra makes a mental note
to try it and then speaks on another subject.
to try it and then speaks on another subject.
“So... has he been in yet?”
Ali rolled her eyes. “Cass, you know the mail doesn’t come in for least another hour.”
“I know! I just thought maybe by chance...”
“Thought what? That he’d come in to see the pretty girl who likes
him, but he doesn’t know she likes him because she’s too chicken to say
and...”
“Okay enough Ali! I get your point.”
“I’m just speaking truth and SOMEONE, meaning you needs to tell a
certain other SOMEONE, meaning our good-looking mailman there how she
feels.There is no ring on his finger! Worst he could say is that he has
a girlfriend. Stop being so goddamn scared!”
Cassandra knows there is nothing to be scared of really. It is just
when he looks at her with those blue eyes something inside of her
ceases to function correctly; One of these things being her ability to
properly speak.
An hour later it happens. He comes through the door with
the bag of mail for the 23rd floor. Short black brown hair only long
enough to get into his left eye, about 6 feet tall, medium build with
broad shoulders that are defined wonderfully by the cut of his uniform
jacket, and just about the firmest butt ever to be seen on a grown man,
or at least Cassandra thought so.
He makes his way around the room placing mail in the bins near the clusters of cubicles.
Cassandra watches his every move as he smiles and looks down at the
mail figuring out section names. Oh so hot. Cassandra is almost
drooling.
“Hey!” he says while plopping down the mail into the bin next to her cubicle.
“Heyyy..he..hey! Whaaat’s up?” she manages to studder out through a
flutter of butterflies in her stomach and a lump in her throat.
“Nothing much, it’s a bit chilly out there today.”
Her shock is apparent all over her face. He smiles and waits in a
courteous stance for her to speak. “It’s not he he he.. not too bad”
Cassandra can't control her girlish giggling around him.
“You know we’ve never been properly introduced. I’m Daniel. Daniel DiLuci. And you are?”
“Cass.Cassandra Dali.”
Daniel is definitely thinking to himself but does not ask if there was a Miss or Mrs. in front of her name.
“Well, nice to officially meet you Cassandra. I’m sure I’ll see you again.”
“Um..sure..Daniel.” Cassandra manages to smile at him while she
speaks. The smile back Daniel gave her causes her to become light-headed.
Then with a whiff of his light but intoxicating cologne
escaping from the confines of his polyester uniform shirt he leaves.
Cassandra almost falls off her chair as she slinks down in her seat
as low as she can go. She can hear Ali’s snickering and “Oh my
Gods” faintly through the haze of heat left in Daniel’s wake.
Now, he has a name.
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