In Love with a Woman with Red Lips


Groggy from sleep deprivation, overworked and under-stimulated, I stumbled into my local coffee shop down the street, all too familiar with my type. You know the kind, overly passionate creatives with a bad case of writer's block and a modest alcohol problem.


After ordering and mustering a wink to the cute barista, I scurried to my usual corner, the seat nicely worn to accommodate the slouch in my entire body. I was tired, the kind of tired to my bones and was looking for inspiration and the daily newspaper was only encouraging my pessimistic viewpoint of a world gone wrong.


There I was minding my own business, reading the garbage of the daily rag, bad bagel in one hand, coffee in the other and SHE, sauntered in. The obvious disruptance in the force could be only described as divine coupled with breathless contemplation of a dream come true.

She, this woman, was perfection personified. Her elegance preceded her by a split second in time, almost as if I was experiencing her in multiplicity as she moved in synchronicity to my heartbeat. I heard angels sing, which made me uncomfortable since I had bid my goodbyes long ago to any romantic nature left inside this tired heart.


It was her lips that captured me first. My curved shoulders slowly pulled back from the slouch that had become my new normal, eyes brightened, head tilted and at the same time, working to conceal my obvious intrigue. She couldn't be fooled and knew she had me in her tractor beam as her red lips gently smirked in unison with a wink. I melted right there at my table, becoming self-conscious that my life had become unmanageable as I pushed my bagel and coffee aside, tucking the remnants of newspapers under my chair.

With back to me at the counter, my life played like an old reel-to-reel projector of where I had been, the love I had lost and the visa stamps my passport boasted. For perhaps the first time, I felt truly connected to this mysterious woman with bright red lips, embodying power and elegance unencumbered from the drama that seemed to accompany most other women I had known.



Just then she turned, tucking her money away in a hand bag perfectly coordinated with shoes, elegantly dressed in a belt-cinched trench coat protecting a Chanel power suit underneath. It was her red lips that once again gave me the gift of a closed mouth smile, this time with eyes gentle upon me followed by the hint of a head nod.


As quick as she arrived, she was gone. I sat there, almost paralyzed by the encounter. The hum of the old projector continued, but this time the black and white turned to color and I floated onto the screen, no longer caught up in the depressing dismay of the past. A zest came over my soul as dreams gone dormant began to flood in to my mind with screenplays, creations and projects that had long been forgotten.


It's been five years now since that lonely coffee shop day. I owe that woman a debt I can't repay because that is the day I made a decision and changed. As if dusted with mystical fairy dust, the spell she cast upon me was the fuel needed to continue on, to reconnect to what is important and live, I mean really, really live.


I'll never forget her. That woman with the Kickass Red Lipstick.


~Robin



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