It was 2.45 am. Her heart was racing, overwhelmed by a fervour that only inspiration could evoke. A faint smile played on her lips, hinting nothing of the chaos within, as her fingers danced on the computer. On the screen, a masterpiece was emerging in Helvetica.
She knocked on the door that said ‘Editor-in-Chief’ and heard a faint invitation to enter. As usual, her boss was nursing his sleep deprivation with the strongest black coffee.
“Did you read the story I sent you this morning?”
Without looking up from the mess on his desk, the bald, bearded, bespectacled boss of hers answered.
” 3.43 am is not morning. It’s inhuman.”
She could feel he was deflecting and she grew impatient.
“You told me to write a story that was bold and fearless, the story that I really wanted to tell. Well, it’s currently lying in your inbox. Will you publish it?”
He sighed, wondering who was the boss here. There was no escaping this. He took his time though, cleaning his glasses, then putting them on, and fixing her with a piercing stare.
“I read it. And it’s crazy good. Hell, I loved it. But are you sure you want to do this? Hasn’t there been enough damage done already?”
She nodded. Hitting send on that email had done it for her. No going back now.
“Do it.” And she left.
She was lying in her bed, wide awake, when her phone rang. She saw the number flashing on the screen and held her breath. Moment of truth.
The voice on the other end was calm and composed, as if holding back the urge to say a lot of things all at once.
“I read your story. I didn’t know you were one for grand gestures?”
“I know I wasn’t. But I am changing now. Less afraid of the unknown, more open to commitment. To us…”
He remained silent. She spoke again.
“So… what do you think? Can we start again? I promise, no holding back. This time, I’m all in.”
Another long pause from him. But this time, she wasn’t afraid. Love, she had come to realise, was supposed to be fearless. And then the silence was broken.
As she put the phone down, her heart was racing again. She felt like a schoolgirl getting excited for her first date. She had a dress a to pick, get her hair and nails done, and most importantly lock away all her fears forever.
On her way to the kitchen to get her morning coffee, she glanced at the magazine that lay open on her dining table. The story title read ‘How I Loved & Lost The Man of My Dreams’.
She caressed the glossy host of her words and smiled to herself. He was right. It was one hell of an apology!
In response to The Daily Post’s prompt: Fearless