Coffee Cups and Angel Faces

I had spent the last few months in a daze, mesmerized by the sight of her. A glance from the stage and beyond all the spotlights and there she was. A vision of what I can only describe as an angel sent from hell. Her image was burned into my brain and nothing I did could scrub it clean. I felt like I was going out of my mind. Every day she was there, among the crowd, standing alone as if no one else was in the room but her.

Glancing down at the coffee table I was hunched over I searched for my keys among the rubble of discarded lyric sheets and coffee mugs. Snatching the keys from under a screwed up sheet and bit my bottom lip and rethought my actions. Shrugging I grabbed my leather jacket and left the house.

The night sky was lit up like an astrologers paradise as I slipped into the drivers seat of my Camero and sped away from the quaint English countryside towards bustling London. The wheels screeched as I stopped outside the entrance of my studio. The car door barely slamming shut as I punched the entry code into the door.

“Alright Fred.” I nodded as I reached reception “Max still ‘ere?”

“Yes sir, he’s in his office.” the security guard answered, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“Cheers mate. See ya laters.” I called back as I took the stairs two at a time.

“Morgan, what are you doing here?” Max demanded as I burst into the production office on the 12th floor.

I opened my mouth to speak but was too breathless to speak.

“Well? You’re suppose to be on full R and R after your recent behaviour.”

“That video… the one… the one from Fri… day I need… to… see it..,”

“What for?”

“Just do!”

“Ok, ok, keep your panties on.”

Sighing I poured myself a cup of cold coffee and fell onto the sofa as Max played with the buttons on the control desk. The plasma screen lowered agonizingly.

“Here it is, looks good from what I’ve seen.” Max commented hitting play.

“Yeah, yeah just be quiet will ya.” I snapped sitting forward on the sofa. I studied the screen like hawk for the next half an hour as crowds of girls filled the screen, scanning each and everyone them. “Stop! There! That’s her!” I bounced “Back it up a few frames. There,” I pointed, “the girl with the blonde ringlets and bracelet with the pad lock on.”

Max swung his chair round and studied the screen more closely. “What is it with you and that girl?”

“I have no idea.” I said standing up and taking control of the desk. I skipped forward a few minutes until the camera panned back to the same area of crowd “When the camera goes back she’s gone, like always. I need you to find me that girl.”


“I don’t know and I don’t care, I have to see her again.” I said skipping the tape back to her, stepping forward I drank in every part of the strangers face. “Just find her.”

Categories: Fiction, Prose | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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