Writing Exercises

 

The Next Morning

Grace Marshall - Sunday, April 30, 2017

Corinthia sighed as she swirled the cup containing her orange juice. Continental breakfast, eh, could be worse. She had missed her bed last night and having fresh clothes; blasted snow. The roads should be cleared soon enough though. She'd just eat her breakfast and then go home. Hopefully no one would notice her.

Silas leaned up against the pillar in the entry of the hotel's breakfast lounge. His hangover was killing him despite the painkillers and massive amounts of water he'd been chugging since he'd woken upstairs in his room. He didn't remember much about last night, but as he surveyed the guests, he did remember someone. 'Well hello hello,' he thought as he noticed the attractive blond pianist wearing black shades. He straightened up, brushed out a wrinkle and ran a quick hand through his hair before striding confidently towards her table. Check out wasn't 'til noon, perhaps the fun wasn't over. Coming to a stop across from the woman he smiled his most dashing "woman killer" smile.


Corinthia paused in her eating as she heard footsteps approach and stop at her table. She took a sip of her orange juice idly but when the person didn't leave she set the cup down and asked, "Can I help you?" She thought maybe it was one of the hotel staff, needing something. Who else could it be?

Silas's smile faltered. 'Can I help you?' wasn't usually how women responded to that approach. He glanced down at his shirt, looking for whatever was putting her off about his appearance then back up into those big dark sunglasses. Then understanding hit him and he grinned. "Ah! Hung over too? I understand, I'm not much of a morning person either," he volunteered, forging ahead. "Silas Trent, nice playing last night."

Corinthia tensed as she heard the familiar voice of the inebriated man from the night before. Her mind mulled around the man's words, looking for understanding. Hung over? Why would he think that? She was working last night. Then she understood; her sunglasses. Her fingers fiddled with her fork. "Good morning, Silas," she responded in a voice she hoped was polite but not friendly. She couldn't argue with the not being a morning person part, she preferred to be past the cleaning up and picking out clothes part of the day. "Corinthia," she offered offhandedly. "And thank you." 'And please leave me in peace,' she added in her mind.

Silas frowned before catching himself and withdrawing his outstretched hand. Was she foreign and didn't understand in America people shake hands? She didn't look foreign, but looks could be deceiving. Perhaps she was offended he'd barged in on her performance last night? Ah well, here was the opportunity to rectify that. He smiled ingratiatingly. "I feel like I owe you an apology, may I?" He motioned to the chair opposite her.

The unseen offered hand was ignored and Corinthia fiddled with her silverware as she tried to figure out what he was asking. "May you what? Sit?" She guessed. Why didn't he just say what he was asking so she would know? And if that was what he was asking, what was her response?

Silas nodded. "Uh yeah, that's kinda what I was asking." Silas was perturbed. Was she slow or something? He never had this much trouble getting his intentions across to a woman.

Corinthia paused, everyone could be a potential fan of her music, right? "Of course," she said quietly, her fingers still playing with her fork.

Silas smiled and slid onto the chair opposite. "I wanted to apologize for last night, I was quite drunk on shall we say, success, and I fear I may have overdone it a bit." He pointed at her glasses. "But I see I'm not the only one that overdid things last night." He chuckled.

Corinthia's hand stilled on her fork and she frowned slightly. "I'm not sure what you're referring to? Are you suggesting I overdid my playing or..." Ah right, he thought she was hungover. "Oh no, I didn't drink last night. I don't tend to drink when I perform. Just snowed in so I couldn't make it home."

"Oh don't be prudish, I myself get hungover every now and then." He waved good-naturedly. "One simply must know how to cure it afterward! And that yogurt isn't going to do it! Let's have some eggs, and sausage over here! I'll have you fixed up and out of those shades in no time!.......psst waiter?" He called, raising his hand to attract the server's attention.

Corinthia blushed slightly and ducked her head, she was just getting food from the buffet, not bothering the few scattered servers. She suddenly felt kind of embarrassed for Silas. He had no idea. No idea. "I really don't have a hangover," she said the words but doubted he'd listen. "That's not why I'm wearing sunglasses."

Silas laughed. "Oh come come, you're wearing sunglasses inside, it's quite obvious, especially after a great night like last night, who could fault you!" He grinned. "And after breakfast, the next thing I suggest is a casual stroll, the sun is up, the morning is just lovely! Nothing like a little exercise to finish off the last of a hangover!" "Do you like art galleries? I know of a fine one quite close by, it's private but I'm a personal friend of the artist if you'd like to accompany me! It would be a rare treat I assure you, as very few people get to see his work.

Corinthia frowned, a bit dumbfounded that he would even ask her to go to an art gallery. It had become obvious he didn't know she was blind, but really? This guy was just rolling in bad luck. "Silas," she sighed. "I'm wearing these because I'm blind."


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