Et si? –

by Asma.

Grand_Ballroom,_Windsor_Hotel,_Montreal,_QC,_about_1878 (1)

The grand morbier clock in the study chimed the beginning of the feast. It wasn’t just the menus upon menus of assorted delicacies and champagnes that made the invite so irresistible but the charming host himself with his irrevocable promise of the night being the only one of its kind which made the refusal utterly impossible. Standing in the balcony, witnessing the seamless ballgowns flowing in unison with the chords of the resonating motet, He smiled. Nobody would return disappointed from here tonight, nobody but him. Pouring himself a coupe of Moët, he inconspicuously shifted his gaze onto the front entrance. He let his thoughts run- as free as those carved horses in the mahogany door.  Tilting his head to one side he wondered, ‘Et si?’  –

The door was wide open, inviting everyone & anyone with a desire to quench their thirst of cloud-nine. It was however, an altogether a different matter that there were no guests for it to graciously receive anymore; at least not the one, the owner of this classic château was eagerly anticipating. Looking skywards, his gaze met the scintillating chandelier. He was trying to interpret the geometrical patterns made by it on the dome of the roof when the realization hit him. Maybe, people are not supposed to be happy.  Maybe, gratitude is all that is expected of us. Instead of complaining how things didn’t turn out according to the plan, we should be grateful that it didn’t get worse when it could have. He had his answer after all. So close, yet so far apart.

His plans deserved a genuine laugh from him. The music subsided as the morbier chimmed midnight. The feast was over and it was time to bid adieu. Shifting his gaze for one last time on mahogany entrance he reflected on the taste of his Moët; as sweet as his dreams, as bitter as his memories. ‘Et si?’  – The ticking of the antique clock was barely audible over the silence which ensued. Time passed, yet the night lingered on.

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