Every Shining Moment

Hello.

Compliment.

Funny joke.

Maybe not.

Pizza in my face.

Goodbye.

And that was how my dating life ended. The girl of my dreams walked in and out of my life, like a person taking a wrong turn in a revolving door.

Rejection. At least I didn’t take it too hard…

(Three years and zero dating later…)

A strange sensation enveloped me. I felt excitement coursing through my veins and at the same time, my nerves were racked by anxiety. What could cause such a dichotomous experience? Purchasing a used car? Opening a gift from an ex? Consuming an extraordinary tasting street taco from a questionable food truck?

Click, click, click...

8 seconds left.

“These are the moments that separate the boys from the men.”

Click, click, click...

“Only seconds left”.

Click, click, cli-unlocking sound.

“I did it!” I relieved with a sigh.

Without further invitation I turned the handle to the safe and swung the door open. There it was, the unpublished manuscript of the world’s foremost dating expert, Archimedes Taylor.

I snatched the manuscript, shoving it into the tactical bag that was slung on my back and circumvented to the next room.

“Stop right there!” shouted a guard entering the room.

“There goes my exit.” I thought as I swiveled my body to the right. “Time for plan B”.

Starting into a full sprint I bound toward the window on the east side of the room. I had studied the building’s exterior for a month and knew that there was a balcony one floor below that very window. The crash of the window would hurt a little, the sound was sure to be unpleasant, but the worse part would be the landing. I would either experience a hard landing on the balcony or overshoot the balcony and encounter an even harder landing three stories below.

No holding back.

I leapt up at the window, anticipating a crash.

Tha-quack!

Like a basketball rebounding the backboard I hit the glass and bounced back crashing onto the hard laminate floor.

I lay on the ground looking up at my pursuer. The guard looked down at me, his eyes displaying the “gotcha” look that was accompanied by a grin of amusement.

“Plexiglass windows, eh?” I smirked.

“Ironically, that is the only window that isn’t glass.” The guard responded as he reached down and grabbed me by the shirt, lifting me to my feet. “Too many birds kept flying into the window”.

“Go figure.” I shrugged. “So is it okay if I take the stairs?”

“Oh, you’ll take them,” he said, glancing over in the the next room and seeing the open safe, “but not until you return what you stole and then you’ll get a free ride in a police car.”

“Sorry,” I brushed myself off and reached into my bag and reluctantly pulled out a binder clipped manuscript. The security officer snatched the manuscript from my hands.

Plan C was now in action. I had planned on the possibility of getting caught. Archimedes Taylor had made the mistake of showing the cover of the manuscript on a social media announcement, so I had prepared a fake duplicate to ditch if I was being pursued. The real manuscript was now concealed in the hidden compartment in the backpack.

“What else have you got in the bag?” The guard asked with an inquiring tone reminiscent of an old time detective.

Conveying a look of further disappointment, I turned my backpack upside down and let the contents clatter to the floor.

Rope, a couple pens, lock picks, a stethoscope, super glue, masking tape, lighter, and a radio.

Why a radio? Did I have a partner? No, but the guard wouldn’t know that and I figured if I got caught, it wouldn’t hurt to distract and split up my captors to increase my chances of escaping.

Oh, and something I forgot to mention, a plastic zipped bag full of olive oil.

Time for Plan C. Still holding my knapsack upside down, I then compressed both sides of the backpack, making the bag of olive oil spill over the guard and cover the ground around him.

Side note: the secret compartment containing the manuscript was waterproof, so don’t worry about that. Second, I was wearing shoes with slip-proof grip tread.

I turned and ran toward the stairway with all haste. As expected, the guard lunged but slipped, struggling to gain balance. By the time the guard was able to get on his feet and make it to the stairs, I was down the stairs and out the front door.

I bolted down the sidewalk getting strange looks from by-passers and ducked right into the nearest alleyway. I reached behind a nearby dumpster and grabbed a radio I had taped to the the back. I then continued down the alley and turned right again once I reached the sidewalk. There was a crosswalk here, so I crossed the street and continued on sidewalk to the next alley. It was here that I flipped my black jacket inside out so the interior light gray was now visible.

Raising the radio, I squeezed the talk button and in a disguised rough voice, pretended to be my get-away driver trying to contact me. “Status report?” “I’m circling the block over on 42nd Street.” I was actually on 38th Street. That should confuse the guard if he was still listening.

I begin walking down the next street. Running would only draw attention. After crossing another street I sidestepped into another alley. Behind another dumpster I had hid a green jacket, a messenger bag, and a hat. I ditched my gray/black jacket and put on the green jacket along with the hat. I also ditched my oil-soaked backpack and put the manuscript in the messenger bag.

My target was to get to the park a couple miles away. In each alley way I called out the get-away driver’s new fake location on the radio.

I finally made it to the park. I would cause less suspicion if I was with someone else, so I started looking for someone to talk to. After a few minutes I noticed a homeless man sitting at a bench, surrounded by his belongings.

I glided to the bench and parked myself a couple feet from the man.

“I figured it would be a great day to read in the park. Is it okay if I sit here?” kindly inquiring of my new bench mate.

“Oh, of course” he responded.

I then pulled out the manuscript, trembling as I held it in front of me.

“What is that?” the man asked.

“Oh it’s a book my professor wrote. It is about how to improve your relationship.”

This author was praised by critics as an expert in dating advice. It had to contain the secret on how to be a man that woman swooned over.

I began storming through the pages, looking for the secret that eluded so many.

“Relationships can be difficult at times.” The man commented. “And I’m not sure I was ever great at it, but my wife was.”

Not trying to get distracted from my search, but attempting to appear conversational, I asked the man “Oh, you’re married?”

“She passed away from cancer about 5 years ago.” The man responded, his cheerful tone now broken with a sad tremble.

Abandoning my concentration I looked over at the man. His head now dropped down and fingers crossed.

“I’m so sorry.” I said. “You must miss her.”

“I do.” The man said.

“How do you move forward when your heart gets broken?” I had wondered this question for the last three years and was curious to see what this man would say.

“Shortly after my wife passed, I crashed and things got real bad. I lost my job, our home, and my desire to do anything. It is only recently that I am trying to turn my life around.”

“What changed?” I asked

He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a little black book. “I found this. My wife got it for my birthday, and gave it to me in the hospital. I thought it was just a blank journal. After my wife passed, I didn’t think there was anything in my life worth recording in a journal. I was packing up a few belongings after getting kicked out the house, I was about to chuck the notebook. I flipped through the pages for the first and probably last time when I noticed writing on the last page and found this note from my wife.

The man then gently handed the open notebook to me.

I took the notebook and read the inscription:

“Shane,

I know these last few years have been rough

and I’m sorry we are not able to celebrate

your birthday like normal, but I am glad to

have had the chance to share my life with you.

When we first met I thought you acted a bit

weird and were a little shy, but I am glad I got

to know you. I found out your weird quirks are

what makes you fun and you are only shy

because you care about others no matter who

they are, you even care what they think. I have

loved to wake up to your smile every morning

and hold your hand whenever we’re together.

I’m not sure what lies ahead, but know that I

will always love you and I will be with you no

matter what. Please remember to always let

the sunshine into your life and I will be there

with you, in every shining moment.”

After I finished reading the note I handed the notebook back and glanced over at the man. He sat there for a moment gazing fondly at the book, holding a smile.

“I’m not much of a love guru,” he said, “but I do know that the right person will love you for who you are and they will always be there, even if it is just a memory you can carry in your heart.”

I had been so caught up in the pursuit to be a desirable man to every woman that I forgot that being a good man would be enough for the right woman. The right woman would take the time to get to know me and see how I was special.

“Thank you.” I said. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Sure.” The man said.

“Would you take this book back to my professor?” I asked. “He is probably missing it. He lives in the red brick building to the right of the pizza place on 7th.”

(Twenty minutes later.)

Shane, the homeless man, had arrived at the building and noticed police talking to a security guard and a well-dressed man. Shane walked up the steps and showed the manuscript to the group. “A man told me to return this to his professor.”

“My BOOK!” The well-dressed man in the group exclaimed. “Where did you find it?”

“A young man in the park gave it to me and asked me to return it.”

“Why?” asked the security guard suspiciously.

“He seemed anxious to read it, but after talking with him, he wasn’t interested in it anymore.”

“That seems strange.” The well-dressed man, Archimedes Taylor, sneered. “This book will change the world.”

“If that’s all, I’ll be going.” replied Shane.

“Wait, I offered a $20,000 reward for the return of my book and I’d like you the have it.” Mr. Taylor then handed a stack of money to Shane. “Thank you for returning my book.”