David Bonifacio

Once upon a time there was a lady. And since this is my story, I want to call her the most lovely of ladies.

Was she fat? you may ask, and that would be a stupid question for lovely has little to do with circumference. But if you must know, she was just perfect.

Now this lady had dreams, big dreams in her heart, that she could not imagine ever coming true. Yet, as is the case with limited man and impossible dreams, she never took more than a few steps into her thoughts.

She would go into a bookstore, pick out a book on the places she wanted to visit, and read and wish, read and wish. She would wish then hope, then stop, then tear, then close the book before heading home.

On one of those days in the bookstore, on a day that had nothing special about it, at the exact moment her tear was about to fall on a book on Istanbul, she heard a man’s voice ask, “Why are you always crying?”

“I haven’t been crying.” she answered defensively.

“Yes, you have. You always leave a tear drop on the books you read.”

“Do you work here? I’m sorry. Did I ruin them? I’ll pay for them.”

“So you admit you have been crying?”

“What is it to you? Are you stalking me?”

“I wasn’t stalking you.”

“You just so happened to be at the travel section every time I was there? You’re stalking me!”

“Ok, ok I admit I followed you a bit. So why are you always crying? Is it because you want to go to these places?”

“It’s none of your business! If you didn’t look so harmless I would smash your face with this book!”

“How blessed am I to look this harmless.”

Back and forth their exchange went until they both laughed, “Two of us fools arguing over dreams untrue. Might as well stop right now and be fools no more.”

And the young man said to her, “You know pretty lady, in some places I’m considered a prince. Yet I’m a prince with no kingdom.”

“Haha” she laughed. “A prince with no kingdom. How can that be?”

“I have the duties and expectations of a prince without its purse nor luxury.”

“Then why be a prince at all?” she asked.

“That is a question I ask myself!”

“I think I understand.” she said, “I once thought I was a princess. That is what everyone said. Until I found I had nothing and realized I was not.”

“A prince with no kingdom and a ‘once-a-princess’. How perfect we should meet!”

So the young man said, “I have a bunch of gift cards. I get a bunch every now and then. Let’s grab your dreams and take them with us.”

“What dreams she asked?”

“Your books of course! This one on Istanbul, this one on homes, this one on rooms, this one on art studios, this one on kitchens, this one on places to visit, this one on…

… on carbs?”

“I just saw that there.” she said embarrassed.

“Yes, of course The Carb Curtail bounced its way to the travel section. And what’s this?”

The guy stopped and picked up a small Moleskine.

“Give me that!” she grabs it quickly.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. You can keep that.”

He held the books with his left arm and grabbed her wrist with his right hand and walks her to the cashier. The cashier adds up the books, which became quite a sum, a little bit more than the young man’s gift cards.

“I have a little money but it still won’t fit. Do you have any?”

“I don’t. Why do you think I never bought the books?” she replied.

“I guess this will have to go.” and with that he removed The Carb Curtail from the stack. “I guess you will just have to be fat in your dreams. Haha! We shall write a book about you Fat in Istanbul! Haha!”

She didn’t find it amusing.

“Sorry. I got carried away.”

He gave his gift cards and took the bag of books. “Let’s go!”

“Go where?” she asked.

“To the airport of course!”

“I’m not taking a trip with you. I don’t even know you!”

“Oh ok. We’ll just have to check here.” he replies while grabbing his smartphone and checking plane tickets to Turkey. “Yikes! Unless you have a few thousand dollars more than earlier I don’t think we can afford this.”

“Haha!” she laughed while shaking her head. ” I could have told you that. We knew that all along.”

“It was worth a try.” he said.

“Worth a try to attempt something you already know cannot happen?” she asked almost mockingly.

“Yes, I think so. You never know what miracle awaits when we try.” he responded unaffected.

“You’re a strange man.” she said with a frown.

“Strange for banking on a miracle?”

“Strange for trying at all.”

“Than I’m happy to be a stranger.”

“Stranger, my name is Dorothy.”

“Nice to meet you Dorothy. My name is William. Now that you know my name, I am a stranger no more.