Genel

Her Voice, So sweet….(12)

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Big Tits

With the season of summer coming into pass, the days of recreation was called by the lullaby of harvest and melancholia. The memoirs of the warm sun slowly fell to a slumber in the tinge of orange and red. And as the sonorous ruffling of the fallen leaves blanketed the land, the fairies of autumn weaved a mantle that would lay rest to the seeking soul. In a soft veil of golden figs and hazelnuts, the city was witness to the gentle cascade of the season’s pigment. At the far edge of the city was a little tea shop – a humble abode for those who wishes serenity for their busy lives. The scent of its brewery wafted through the same breeze that blew the leaves in a graceful dance. The finest flowers of autumn hung on its shelves – cleverly arranged in ways that enhances their beauty, they sprinkled the walls as if welcoming the arriving few, but loyal guests. A car stopped in front of the shop and an adolescent girl walked out of it. She was brimming with the charisma of knowledge and duty. With books cradled on her hand, she entered the shop with an excited smile on her face. The moment she entered, she was immediately greeted by the sight that she admires the most. Another girl of her same age – a waitress to the shop – walked over to cater to her needs. She was the girl whose name comes entwined with the tales of a joyful companionship. With a smile that outshines the sun, the waitress pulled out a whiteboard to greet the costumer using the only means she could. “I’m back” the girl with the book said with a smile. “Hey, welcome back” the waitress wrote in her board, returning the greeting. +++O+++ Ismene As the soothing melody of the piano filled the shop with the ambiance of rest, I sat there with a tea on my hand and a pile of documents messily scattered across the table. The job that I was supposed to do lay untouched as the only thing that my eyes can see is the sight of the waitress who greeted the costumers in a way that surprised them. At the far entrance of the small shop was a girl just my age. Neatly dressed in their assigned uniform, she greeted all costumers with a bright smile – a bright smile and a little white board that says: “Welcome to our shop. I’m a mute. May I take your order?” With diligence in her work, combined with an unblemished cheerfulness, it wasn’t long till the costumers fell to the charm of her voiceless language and answered her written questions as if they were talking to someone normal. And after a good few minutes the arriving costumers faded and the mute waiter sat right in front of me. She set aside her board then began to use her hands in a different way. Using the sign language, she flailed her hand and fingers in a coordinated manner in order to bring out the words “Break Time at last” before pushing my documents aside and slump her cheeks on the table, exhausted. “Mind your table manners now. You’re going to set a bad name for the shop,” I reprimanded her while sipping on my cup. Her name is Myra, the shop owner’s daughter and a friend of mine. Though she was born voiceless, her loving family found no difficulty in raising her in a supportive community. And with their aid, she grew up to be the energetic person that she is now. Being friends longer than I remember, learning her sign language was the easiest part in building our bonds. “Yeah, yeah.” she sighed before sitting up properly. “By the way, what happened to your report? Wasn’t it sent last year to be peer reviewed with results expected to arrive last month? Puffing my chest in pride, I answered her with a brief but effective “It was a success and it is going to be published in local universities next year.” “Amazing” Myra gasped in amazement. Then she sunk her head back into the table as if she forgot what I said earlier. With her head down, she wrote in the air, saying: “And I am here stuck with taking care of our tea shop. Papa can’t even trust me with baking the fancy pastries” “Life is not a competition,” I replied with a small smile. Then, under my breath, I softly added: “There are some things in your life that I would like to have. Cheer up” She caught it and looked up to me, curious “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Nothing.” With a smile, I recline my back to chair and let etimesgut escort the conversation drift off elsewhere. “Christmas is coming. Got any plans?” “Christmas, huh” Her hand gestures suddenly lost its energy and her facial expression signal the impression of being lost in thought. “To be honest, I still have no plans at all. Last year, I thought of finding a lover before the winter kicks in but I guess my heart is still not ready for it.” “Really?” I felt my heart jumped a bit. She was already on the stage where she is interested in finding a partner and my interest in knowing her preference came surging in. “So what type do you lik-” Before I could finish, a loud gasp came out from behind me. It was quickly followed by the loud crashing of a fallen tray and silverwares. It was a middle aged man – his shirt was draped by an apron designed with the logo of the shop. To be precise, he was Myra’s own father who just made a scene. And judging by his shock, it is obvious that he saw most, if not all, of Myra’s hand gestures. “W-w-what is this lover thing that you are talking about just now?” his voice was so loud all the costumers turned their heads towards him. But instead of lowering his head, he made it grow even more by looking over the counter and yelled: “Honey! Our daughter is talking about having a lover!” “What?” came the response, followed by another woman who came out of the kitchen. “Yeah, and she says that she’s planning to confess before Christmas!” The thought of how he managed to misread the sign language baffled me greatly. “Oh dear, oh dear.” The voice of her mother came out unstable but still soft and caring. Little droplets formed in her eye as she took a seat and wiped them away. “Our daughter has grown big enough to leave the nest, hon.” Quickly, her husband came to her side and comforted her “Lonely days ahead, my love. But it is still our duty to support her nonetheless” In this rather humorous scene that took everyone’s attention, I caught glimpse of Myra who desperately cowered in shame, her head covered with her whiteboard. And written in her board were the words: ” I don’t know these people, I swear!” Myra is visibly humiliated to and fro. And for it all, I simply took a sip on my tea as I immersed myself with the second hand embarrassment. oOo When the day came to another end, I hopped on to my car and let my driver take me home. As we pass through the usual streets and roads, my thoughts wallowed through the idle conversations I just had. From a small curve, my smile expanded with the scenes that I replayed in my head. A mere customer I am, but my heart have already been swayed to the warmth of the place. The tea that was brewed with care, fine bread sweetened by their friendly company, and the family who welcomes everyone to their humble abode, a day does not pass where I will not yearn to return. And to say that the place is dear to me would still not suffice to speak my love for it. From the papers that were crammed in my portfolio, I unearthed a single photo. In that picture laid the image of me and her family – on the table was a cake with my name was on it. A simple feast to commemorate a simple occasion, I can never forget the brilliant smiles that we wore as we filled the shop with the music of festive glee. Once, my family and business gatherings have been of great importance to me but after seeing the beauty of Myra’s home, I saw myself finding excuses to return home late. With a sigh of longing, I held the picture close to my chest and wondered to myself how I could have looked like if I never met Myra. I will be completely unrecognizable, I bet. When we reached the gates of my house, I felt like something was amiss and my suspicions were confirmed when I saw another car on the driveway. My eyes opened as wide as my jaw that fall hanging from the shock of the moment. I was surprised beyond words. Unable to withhold the beating of my heart, tears started welling up in my eyes. But before the first drops fell, I forcibly unlocked the door of the car and jumped out in a fashion that shocked even me. It has been so long since I felt so much joy and I do not intend to wait any further. I blazed through the front eryaman escort door and ran through the hallway until I finally saw her – dressed in an office uniform, she stood near the window, gazing the outside view with her dignified stare. Helpless to the call of excitement, I called out to gain her attention. “M-Mother!” I yelled. And as she turned around to face me, I run again, fully intent on tackling her for a hug. But in a spur of a moment, my legs froze when she said “What on Earth have you done your life?” Her eyes stared at me in a frozen gaze. The tone in her voice clutched my heart in a visceral chill. Stunned to the very core, the sudden blow took me by surprise and all that was left of the excitement I once wore was the bitterness of disbelief. “I was told that you didn’t meet up with the guy that I arranged for you” she scolded me. “Do you even have any idea of how far I went through just to give the two of you enough time to meet?” “That was…” Disheartened and broken, I hung my head low and answered her softly “…I had an urgent call at the lab. I left him a message of apology but he never answered.” “Good gracious!” she exclaimed. Frustrated, she placed her fingers on the bridge of her nose then sighed in resignation “A foolish girl you are, seriously.” I was unable to respond and just kept my silence. “Get yourself dressed up and meet me for dinner” she commanded, giving the impression that she is not yet done in scolding me. “I only have a few more hours left and we have much to talk about” oOo The dinner went exactly as how I expected it would be. My mother let not a single moment pass where she could restrain her disappointment at what I have done. And for all her ramblings, all I could do is to bow my head in submission. “You are not a kid anymore, Ismene,” she reprimanded me. Her voice was filled with anger and frustration but she kept herself within the level of reason. “It’s about time you start thinking about your future and playing around will get you nowhere.” “I am not doing this for myself, you know. You are my child and it is my duty as a parent to guide you to the right path. You have the liberty to choose whomever you wish to spend your life with, but always prioritize what he can provide for you and the family that you will raise. Do you understand?” She asked, implying the end of her scolding. “Yes,” I answered softly. “Good,” she returned. “A girl can only be young for so long. I can understand if you want to hate me for trying to push you, but one day, you will look back at this conversation and thank me well” After those words, a dreadful air of silence filled the room for a good few minutes before my mother broke it with a loud sigh. “I have to leave in a few minutes. Do you have anything you want to tell me?” When that question came in, the image of Myra’s tea house flashed in my head followed by lips that suddenly voiced out the question “What do you think of girls who love girls?” It was a question that utterly came out of nowhere and we were both surprised by it. “You mean homosexuals or lesbians in particular?” she asked. Then she started to smile. It was the first smile she ever wore after she arrived. And from those curved lips, she answered: “I think it’s beautiful” “R-Really?” my heart jumped a beat. “Yes. It’s a phase that most girls go through.” With those words, my heart sunk immediately. I felt a cold chill run across my skin as she continued to speak. “It is a temporary affection that girls relinquish as they mature. Temporary as it may, it is beautiful nonetheless. To share affectionate moments with your friends and share a bond that is far too deep for words, no woman can ever forget the pristine memories that they have learned on those days.” “I experienced one of those once, in fact…” She continued to speak further but I heard nothing else. My heart felt too heavy to breathe and I closed my eyes as I suppressed my emotions from making its way out oOo After seeing my mother off, my legs slowly took me back to my room. With every step I take, her voice rattled through my head in a vivid tone. Her words carved itself in to me with a cut that no smile can hide. Upon reaching my room, I made sure to sincan escort close the door behind me. And within the stillness of my room, I stared at the folly that I refer to as haven. No curtains or picturesque landscape hang on my room. Not even a single touch of a girl can be found. Instead, the white paint of my walls was covered allover with various sorts of equations and calculations. Together with it, charts, tables, and graphs were stapled accordingly to various spots. At a cabinet, the trophies and awards that I have gathered throughout my life lay in a dusty mess – unwanted, unneeded and undeserved of any attention. This was the curse that I made to remind myself of who I am and what I stand for. Born in a family with a great reputation, I was raised with high expectations. Bound to the rules of the house and a slave to the title, the border between right and wrong is judged by which one will glorify our name. In this house of glass, a person’s worth is weighted by the things he can contribute to keep the name pristine. Love and affection will always be denied to those who did not earn it. No question was asked, and no resistance was made. Or so that’s the façade I wear. Moving towards my desk, I opened the drawer and pulled a little card. The age has already turned its brightly colored designs into dirty shades but the message was still there, as painful as yesterday. Carefully written inside were the handwriting of my mother who wrote “Happy Birthday, dear. I’m sorry I can’t attend your party. Please write whatever you want” And below those words were the ugly squiggles that replied the words that I cannot speak “For you to come home.” A little girl I was back then but I found the curiosity to question my indoctrinated belief. Just like anyone, I yearned for affection and attention, to be sought and needed, and to feel accepted. It was in this tiny piece of paper where my first resistance made its spark. At the same time, it was here where I first felt how to be selfish to my parents who are doing everything for me to enjoy a lifestyle envied by most. Many years have passed since then but the disgust and shame still lingers, making me sick. I buried myself in my studies and kept the little card locked and safe; A little memoir to remind me of what I do not want to become. With all my heart, I placed my faith on the belief that I will win my parent’s affection someday. I just have to try harder. oOo Wrapped in a simple attire of a plain shirt, hazel jeans, and a layer of brown jacket to protect myself from the cold, I stood underneath the waiting shed – a tablet on hand as I read my documents to distract myself from impatience. “What on earth is she doing?” I murmured, unable to concentrate. A strong breeze sent my hair billowing with the wind. “Asking me to arrive so early only to make me wait here on the cold?” Last week, Myra sent me message begging me to accompany her in a quest that her parents gave to her: A simple task it was wherein all she had to do is travel across the city, buying sweets from rival shops and record what she has learned. She said that it was her rite of passage to adulthood and once she finished it, she will finally have her own place at the kitchen. I wished her good luck but she outright insisted that I must be by her side. Asking her why I have to only lead to her saying various excuses which all ended in the conclusion that there is something she wanted to tell me personally. Unable to escape her grasp, I admitted defeat and grant her the freedom to set up a schedule and meeting place. “But now that I am here…” I snarled. But my anger was extinguished in an instant when I finally saw her at the other side of the road. She waved at me as she walked closer. “Quite early, aren’t you?” she said using her hands “Early? You’re the late one,” I snarled, a little ember of anger still resides but I kept my cool to prevent onlookers who just noticed Myra’s sign language. She always gets the attention of others “Girls who messes up are cuter” “No they’re not” I firmly declared as I placed by tablet back to my handbag. What she is talking about is the appeal to make the partner feel needed in order to instigate bonding. Pretty basic psychological strategy but I have my tastes, and cheap tactics are not one of them. “So, where are we going?” “No need to be so sour. Autumn is the season of sweets and we will set our mood accordingly” she declared with a wide grin, then turned her back immediately, as if she was a child excited for balloons.

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