Here’s the first of a five-part story I’ll post over the next several weeks. It expands on a little snippet I posted a while back. I’m inclined to not post pictures to go with it. That might change
By Laura McHale Holland
Engulfed by early morning fog, Marcie spots a dusty green bottle in The Gap’s storefront window. Beyond vintage, the glass vessel leaning against a mannequin’s boot is conspicuous amid the stylish denim and knits on display. Marcie, wrinkled and bent, is drawn to it.
She’s been longing for a potion—a strong one—so she can jump up and down in the stands at a baseball game. Rain pouring or wind roaring, it won’t matter. It won’t matter because once she takes a sip, she will be thick skinned with rosy cheeks and nary an ache in her joints.
She wants a magic elixir so Arturo, her true love, can return to her, so they can make love from dusk to dawn in a tent on a far off beach, no worries about what the future will bring. She wants a potion to take her back—if only for a day—so she can race full tilt down the sidewalk to catch a streetcar and know in that moment exactly how beautiful she is.
She leans closer to the window and instinctively stretches a gnarled hand toward the pane. When her fingers meet the glass, they slip through, as though dipping into water. Startled, she pauses, holding her breath. Then she reaches forward. When she is in up to her shoulder, she grabs the bottle, snatches her arm back and slips the treasure into her trench coat pocket. Circles ripple where she had permeated the glass.
Marcie watches, transfixed, until all is still. Then she touches the pane, tapping at first. It’s solid. She slaps it with her palm. It doesn’t give. Pressing with both hands, she leans against it with all her weight. It’s like any ordinary storefront window.
A bus pulls up to the curb. Marcie boards.
Second installment coming next week.
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