Once Upon Another Time Read Online Free PDF Page B

Market at the corner of Depasquale
and Kenyon Street to grab some lunch.  When it was my turn to order, I asked
for the Italian tuna, and a voice behind me said, “Make that two.”  I turned
around to see those familiar whisky-colored eyes staring back at me.  “Hi,”
said Matt, with a cocky smile.  And the rest, as they say, is history.
    Although it was
unrealistic, it felt as if fate has brought us back together again.
    “Ouch!”  The coat hook on the stall
door jabbed at my back one too many times.  Annoyed, I turned quickly.  My tush
slammed into the gray transparent jumbo toilet paper dispenser.  Of all the
stalls in a twenty-story building, I’d chosen one so tiny you’d have thought
it’d take a small explosive to dislodge me from it.
     As smoke wafted
out through the silent O of my lips, I pondered the thought of whether crazy
people truly know if they’ve gone off the deep end.  Are there times before
they lose complete touch with reality when they rationalize the craziness? 
Like me trying to rationalize the existence of my husband’s ghost haunting me. 
Not the kind of thought most people entertain.  Certainly, not people who ooze
confidence and fit into the heady spheres of society like Laura.  A serious
problem for her could mean a single raindrop had hit the top of her kid-suede
Gucci stilettos or that her hairdresser had gone out of town for the weekend
and failed to notify her.
    “Aubrey!  Are you
in here?”
    How she’d found me,
I’ll never know. 
    As the
click-click-click of her stilettos fast approached the tiny stall, I swept the
air with the fan to clear the smokiness, sending a vaporous cloud swirling
toward the ceiling.  I tossed the cigarette butt into the toilet, just as Laura
pounded on the stall door.  Startled, I lost my grip on the fan and watched as
it took a dive into the bowl along with the cigarette.
    “Aubrey!  Come out
of there right now,” Laura demanded, while still pounding on the door.
    “All right, just
stop with the banging!” 
    The metal door
latch screeched as I slid it open and shimmied my way around the door. 
“Wonderful,” I said, planting a hand firmly on my hip.  “You made me drop my
little battery operated fan into the toilet.”
     “That’s not all
that’s going to be in the toilet if Fendworth finds out you ran out of the
hearing.  Listen, I know you thrive on trench warfare and heaven knows I only
wish I could lob legal artillery the way you can, especially when push comes to
shove, but this case was a breeze.  I don’t get it,” she said with a dismal
air.  “Were you really that bored ?  And what the hell was that cryptic
message about?  The one you whispered in my ear before you shot out of the
boardroom.”
    Looking past her
to stare at the bland beige walls, I wondered how I was going to explain that I
had no recollection of even leaving the boardroom.
    “Um, cryptic
message?”
    “Yes, something
about people’s thoughts invading your mind, like little gremlins.” 
    I felt like
telling her, I tried to explain the abbreviated version last night when I
told you about how it all began with a bump to my head . 
    I recall the goose
egg on the back of my head was nothing compared to the disassociation I’d felt
with my body when it happened.  Like my toes and feet had disconnected from my
Capri covered legs and my brain was floating above my head like a fluffy
omelet.  When the voices in my head began, I tried to find scientific answers. 
So I searched the internet and found that it was possible that solar activity
from the blue moon combined with the bump to my head might have caused some
type of hallucination.  Not that I could have been positive of anything that
was happening, as hallucination and hearing voices are also hallmark signs of
schizophrenia.
    “Oh, that,” I
said, trying to hide the sound of surprise in my voice.  “What I said was
Rossi’s stupid comments were grating on my mind like