Cool Brain

Snow drifted like ticker tape or confetti at a parade on Valentine’s Day in Newark, Delaware. Golira Beston sipped coffee. She felt cozy in her spacious mini mansion she bought at just twenty-eight years of age. She was thirty-one now. She looked like a brownie, dark brown skin and just as sweet. A soft jawline and smooth cheeks gave her a cherubic effect. Her place was chock full of advanced technology. She could walk through the space and heat would emit from the vents at the sound of her voice.

A television screen followed her everywhere if she wished. She listened to music that pulsated and helped her to move about the spacious locale.

From her long days at working at Diamante Bank as an account holder for six different firms, to her upcoming ten year anniversary from graduating from Delaware Institute of Technology in Newark, she planned everything.

Golira continued to listen to classical music. It enveloped her. It inspired her. The whirring sound of the drone blades outside her door went unheeded. She saw an alert, however, on her smartphone.

“Motion outside front entrance,” the message read.

“Simon, pause music,” Gloria commanded.

In red high heels and a black, thousand dollar dress, she ventured to her front door.

“Simon: increase heat at entrance.”

She opened the door and tiny flakes touched her feet. She looked around like a surveyor on a safari. She then looked down and saw a tiny box about the size of a carton of cookies. She picked up the package and then proceeded back into the house.

“Simon: decrease heat to seventy-three degrees Fahrenheit.”

She walked over to the dining room table and cut open the box. Her eyes widened.

She scooped out of the carton a letter written by her crush at DIT in their sophomore year. It was Morrison Caesar, an engineering major who fancied her but never said anything to her. In fact, he ignored her.

In between classes, she would always stand in his way or try to get his attention. In class, she always wanted to sit by him. He would always get up and move.

Now, he had sent her a greeting card. But what could it read?

“Simon: play romantic classical music.”

The library shuffled through centuries of the finest tunes about passion and grace and power. She started to float, drift. A smile, critically white teeth, shown from her mouth as she danced around her home. She poured herself some Bordeaux. Her steps were even and sure. Like wings had grown from her back, she flitted about, the mystery of her university crush remained on her mind.

Her brain processed the evening. The fact the package had arrived at her doorstep enchanted her. Golira glowed. With the apparent communication she had established all those years ago, she had found herself tickled at the fact that she could still work her feminine guiles.

For him to reach out and want to connect signaled to her that she was ready to enter a romantic relationship…she thought. In her mind, she envisioned an elaborate wedding complete with all the details in place. A flowing gown, tuxedoes, doves and champagne and a cake cutting alll flashed on the screen of her mind. She imagined her house full of kids scampering about and the technology system constantly erasing crayon smudge marks.

What could it be? What could this letter proclaim? She sipped. She continued to listen to the music with the lights low. Every movement she made produced a bit of nervous excitement. It was like a tantalizing meal that the house robot chef prepared. It mocked her until it was ready. And so here, the card jousted and tried to take her down.

Her mind focused on the positive, nevertheless. She spoke aloud, not to Simon, but to herself.

“This is it. Golira, girl…you’ve finally done it. You’ve made your career your goal. You’ve strived to advance yourself professionally. You’re the best thing going, woman. You are the woman worthy of all praise. This man has sent you a message after all these years. It may be a mystery now what he sent but we will know. We will know the elegance of love. That love will send you flying, flying up to the cosmos. So we will see just what he said. We will have the chance of knowing…right…now!”

The classical music hit a high point and the sounds stirred her soul beyond all bounds of wonder and curiosity. The idea of the package clanged against her consciousness. Enough. She darted towards the package. She didn’t even spill her drink. Once she reached the box she opened the card. Her mouth dropped. It read: “The Cool Brain Inc. company behind the minor league hockey team is willing to make you an offer….” That’s all she read.

“Simon: turn off the music and dim the lights lower.” She rolled her eyes and downed the wine.