Don’t Jump Too Soon

by John A. Musacchio


"Well, hello there!" Her voice was as sweet as dew-dripping honey, as cool as an autumn breeze; this breeze blew ever so softly against his olfactory, as if its intention were to rustle the fallen leaves and create an October symphony within the confines of his eardrums.

He was mesmerized by the sparkling crystal eyeing him, the silk flowing from her head, the slender outstretched fingers; these fingers slowly lifting up further and further, brushing through the chestnut brown silk and lifting it from the gleaming right eye, hooking it behind the tender ear.

Being in such a voluptuous state, the three-word song echoed throughout his head, his entire being. The bustle of the baggage carriers was muted. Loudspeaker announcements were silenced. The laughing of old friends, the politeness of acquaintances, the soft talk of lovers. Nothing filtered through the screen; nothing else could have even fit inside of his swimming head if it had been vain enough to make the attempt.

Future memories flashed like bright strobes across his vision. He watched himself remember this moment; how he stood up to greet her, the soothed and soothing look on her face, her body pressed tightly against his as the pair leaned in for a mutual kiss. Yes, yes! What a glorious memory it would be! But not yet…

He took everything in, millisecond after millisecond. The slender bronze legs sliding ever so slowly in perfect rhythm, bringing her closer and closer to the delivery that he awaited so. Her navy blue skirt, with its delicious curves situated perfectly below the waist, following the bronze that protruded delicately beneath. A slight ruffle in the pastel pink shirt that contained curves more breathtaking than a mountain range, more desirable than a diamond mine. The beautifully well-formed arms, slender, yet firm. This was no ordinary woman; certainly none such as this had ever shown any desire for the man, and this was the only other thought that was allowed with any constancy to join the pool which was filled with those three greeting words, all swimming aimlessly throughout his head.

The sudden peculiar uneasiness of self-consciousness filled his being with terror. Thoughts of his own hair and eyes and face and apparel and overall appearance overcame his lust and glory and disbelief. He looked down at the small coffee-dripped stain on his off-white button-down shirt and the donut crumbs on his lap.

Oh but who cares! She has spotted him even more so than his daily cup of energy, and has energized him beyond his own belief! Her glance had suddenly captured the crude sloppiness that bequeathed him, and yet she was still introducing herself, her whole self, to him at that very moment…to hell with the stains!

It may have been the courage that had lain dormant in this man for his entire life up until this very moment; or it was possibly the spark of a new "no boundaries" attitude with which his life would be changed forever; then again, it could have been the realization that Fortuna had spun her wheel in favor of this man, but a sudden burst of something exploded from his heart and his veins and his brain and his gut with a feeling that a bomb had gone off inside of him.

What began as a burst quickly fizzled into a dud, and as a wide smile was splashing across the face of the goddess, an uneasy tremble started in two legs that were trying so desperately to stand, as a person who is on the brink of death clings for those last few seconds to finally savor life.

The songbird voice continued in virtual succession with its initial greeting, "Oh, that’s alright, don’t get up." But it was too late he was already moving…no, No, NO!!! rang throughout his head and the initial burst of confidence changed into a soppy pool of self-disgust.

The man quickly reconsidered his movements, but this consideration dripped with existentialism; for it is common knowledge that once a doomed individual such as he begins to advance, there is no attainable outcome other than failure. It was in conjunction with this very oracle that the man’s feet and legs stumbled, his posture slouched, and his shirt untucked just barely enough to allow for a grave interpretation of his being.

But her smile persisted! The man’s only reply was an indecipherable "Ummm…" as the beauty walked up so close as to brush her body with his. Oh, what new worlds were about to be opened unto our hero? What sweet and glorious duet would soon be sung? The swimming mind and heart and body began to sway in opposition to each other upon the contemplation of these questions! He closed his eyes only long enough to blink, to try to make some sense of this glorious incident.

When he opened his eyes, the beauty was stepping past him; he turned his head slightly toward her direction, and a man of equal handsomeness to the woman sat folding a copy of The New Times as the woman extended her hands and fixed them in his; our hero’s jaw dropped slightly as the internal pool drained from his being in a sudden gush.

The pool was instantaneously replaced by the following predicament spurred by indescribable embarrassment: Keep moving so you don’t appear suspect…g



John A. Musacchio is a senior at Cornell University in the School of Industrial and Labor Relations. His fiction has been published in The3rdegree Webzine and Positive Teens Magazine; and his nonfiction articles have been published in The Ontario Provincial Standards Companion and Jade Dragon Online Magazine. He has also worked as a freelance press release writer since 2002. He plans to begin law school in Fall 2005. 



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