I throw my monster handbag in the next chair. On the table, I plunk a tall glass of lime squash - sweat beads and all - and a bowl of cashew. Then I set up my laptop, open the file and get to work. A few paragraphs in, I make a change to a not-so-clear sentence. While I ponder whether or not to keep the next paragraph, I take a sip of the cool, tangy brew and chew a few nuts.
A smudge on the endless blue waves catches my eye.
I squint at the object that’s now much closer. It’s one of those glass-bottom boats. As it draws near, I make out a woman wearing a sundress, her hair in a semi-tamed afro puff. The guy she’s with is leaning toward her, casting a glance around him, as though expecting the unexpected. The way she’s gazing at the bottom of the boat, you’d think her life depends on it. The fish underneath must feel like they’re in a glass bowl under a spotlight. The man stares at her, his head cocked to one side.
But wait, I know this couple. Where from? I think for a bit and it dawns on me. They’re Phillip and Corra, from Grudge, the novel I haven’t looked at for something like six months. I blink, and they disappear, but not before sending me a reproachful look. They’re lonely and getting an attitude. I can tell.
Time to get back to the novel on the screen. The sooner I concentrate on this WiP, the faster I’ll get back to my neglected couple. Next thing I know something terrible will happen to them and I’m not there, fingers whipping over the keyboard, to get them out of danger.
Focus, I tell myself. Corra and Phillip will wait.