Fuschia Pink On The Canal Bridge [Fiction]

"Des laboratoires de merde!" I cursed.

It was just eleven o'clock. I sat on a public bench on the sidewalk across from the district laboratory. The warmth of the bright sun enveloped me but it couldn't keep out the cold I felt inside.

I muttered once more to myself and glanced up to meet the questioning gaze of an elderly man standing in front of me.

"Uh, hello. Are you okay?" He asked and I just stared. "Vous allez bien?" He waved his hand in front of my face. I blinked.

"Sorry. I'm okay," I said and looked down at my hands folded on my knees. I was embarrassed that a stranger caught me talking to myself. He must think I was crazy.

The bench creaked as the old man sat beside me. He cleared his throat and I knew what was coming next. I didn't like talking to strangers. I was going to stand up when he said, "I'm waiting for a test result and agree with you that this place is shitty!"

I held my breath for a moment. Our eyes met for a second and we burst into laughter. Tears sprang to my eyes from sheer relief. I'd been in such a dump from the diagnosis I received from my doctor. He wanted more tests done and the results were not being released fast enough. I wanted the pain and discomfort I felt to vanish immediately. I was ready to rail at the universe for my predicament.

I thought I was alone…but this stranger understood better. I smiled at him. It wasn't about me anymore.

"Thank you for that. I needed a laugh," I whispered.

He nodded. "You're too young to worry about these things. I'm old and every joint in my body creaks in a singsong manner like I'll fall apart into tiny pieces any moment!" He chuckled at his joke. I joined in with a light laugh.

"It isn't pleasant getting old, yes?"

"My dear, there are many things that make old age pleasant but yes, our bodies take some fun out of the joy."

"I'm sorry…"

"Oh no, no. Don't feel sorry for me. The sun is out again after the past freezing days. That's something to be thankful for. Look. The flowers are blooming over there." He points to the array of fuschia pink flowers on the canal bridge.

^{Image credit: @wakeupkitty}

We stared in silence at the flowers, then the quiet street, watching as a few people went about their business.

"Every one of these people has their own stories, their pains and joy. They have a choice to hold onto whichever….and so do you," he whispered, turning to look at me.

I couldn't meet his gaze. He was right. "It's a beautiful day," I affirmed with a smile.

"Yes, it is. I'm driving into the town. Want a lift?" He pointed to his black Jeep parked beside the sidewalk.

"No, thank you. I'm waiting for my test results."

"All the best then, young lady."

We shook hands. His hand was warm. I realised I wasn't shivering inside anymore. I watched as his car drove away leisurely. Maybe life wasn't so shitty after all. I have a choice to choose what I want.

What I See

I see a quaint street with tall green trees lining the sidewalk. An office on the ground floor of the building has a bold signboard "LABORATOIRE" which is a French word for laboratory. There are terrace buildings on the other side of the street and in front of a canal bridge decorated with pink flowers.

What I feel

I feel it's a warm, sunny day for a walk and some reflection on life.

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