It had been yet another hectic day in the despatch office.
She had stayed back to clear the paperwork after a late delivery came in. It was one that was due to go out on the following day. This is why she was riding on the late bus, feeling exhausted. It was going to be a late night. She would make sure she got a good night’s sleep tonight. Suddenly, as she considered this, a gentle smile flickered across her face as she thought about her small but homely flat that waited for her; waited to provide her with the sanctuary and comfort she needed. She had only moved in a few months back, but had made it her own special place very quickly. It had been more than a year since the divorce and apart from staying with her fairly stressful job, she hadn’t looked back. Life was good.
It was dark by the time she swiped her card to open the gate. As she approached her block, she was surprised to see that a light came from one of her windows. She stopped for a moment, confirming that it was coming from her living room. She had always been careful about switching everything off when she left in the mornings. Was this a home invasion? She doubted that she would leave that particular light on by mistake. Did she have the right window? She briefly considered reporting it to the police, it would only take a call on her mobile. Then, she imagined how embarrassing it would be if it turned out that she had simply forgotten to switch the light off.
Riding up in the elevator, she went over her morning movements trying to remember whether anything unusual had happened. She couldn’t come up with anything. At her door, she hesitated a moment, then let herself in. In the tiny entrance hall she could see a glimmer of light coming from the direction of the living room. She pushed the door open slowly and stood gawping. There, on her lounge, casually reading the latest copy of her Tiffany Magazine, was none other than Richard Gere!
She couldn’t speak; she just stood gaping. He lowered the magazine and looked up. He could see that she was in a state of shock. No doubt, it was because he felt bad about giving her such a unexpected jolt and wanted to make her feel more at ease with his being there, he held up the magazine, saying, “Tiffany, my middle name.”
At that moment, she was thrown forward when the bus came to an abrupt halt. She squinted through the window at dark and unfamiliar surroundings. As the conductor made his way to her she knew he was going to inform her that this was the end of the line.
She looked at the time.
Her late night just got later.
