Working The Room

From the moment she entered, all I could think was: Baby, you know how to work a room. Well-dressed, maybe not by the norms of the current fashion, she was sported a closely cropped hairstyle, capri pants and a peplum style mint green top. All eyes were on her and that was the way she loved it.

She was loud, brash even, yet somehow still nonchalant. Her captivating attitude drew everyone towards her. She had a way of interacting with everyone in the room, making each feel special, individually. I’m almost envious of this gravitational force she seems to have around her. When she, tossing back her head carelessly, would laugh unreserved, those around her couldn’t help but smile too.

One moment, during the evening, she was sipping from a glass of water. Something must have irked her, for with a swift movement of her hand and a shriek, she knocked the glass off the table. We stared, shocked, and she, suddenly conscious of the attention, broke out into a nervous laugh. Order was restored. Everybody merely laughed it off. I honestly don’t think my social skills could match hers. Her smile was reserved for few, but her good humour impressed all.

When her uncle took a picture of her with his phone from across the room, she turned to see where the flash came from. Confused at first, her face soon brightened. She rushed over, chuckling, snatching the phone from his hand, to see the picture. After a mere glance at it, she traced an indecipherable pattern on the touch screen and put it to her ear. Whatever it was she heard she didn’t like, because she removed it from her ear and proceeded…

…to put it in her mouth.

I still couldn’t take my eyes off her; stream of drool dribbling down her face glistened. I thought: Damn, it must be amazing to be one year old. Everybody thinks you’re adorable. The main occupation of your time is playing, eating, sleeping and soiling your nappy. No worries about the future. Not yet, anyway. The good life.

Her mother carried her out, she wailing at the top of her lungs, as she had absent-mindedly smacked herself in the face with the phone. I was still in awe.

Author: emphadiate

Med student, chai lover, avid reader. Daydreamer extraordinaire. Slightly imbalanced.

32 thoughts on “Working The Room”

  1. Hahahaha. I don’t know whether to laugh at hilariousity of it, or Aww at the cuteness of it. Very well written.
    At first it build up an image of a very vibrant young lass, and it got me thinking, that ‘Wow, where do such girls exist apart from books and prose?’.. but then I laughed at the end.

  2. Goodness, Hadia! I can not stop laughing at both the post and myself for being in love with the subject of this masterful piece of writing that you’ve produced here tonight. Your ingenuity and creativity are truly remarkable. I loved this.

  3. You’ve always focused on prose. The usual topics. Also, the unique different ones. Exploring realities of life and conveying them in an amazing way in a true prosic manner. So, coming from you this one is a very different air of change. I loved the way you twisted it, created and knitted the thought around that one character and brought out the real beauty. I’d love to read more such posts from you. You are exceptional in playing with words, madame. Fiction seems to be your thing.
    Wonderful piece, personally liked it much!

  4. Every time I read your post and think that I know how talented you are, but with new post I get blown away. You are an amazing storyteller. The flow of your thoughts the way you play with words the beauty with which you give words to those thoughts inside your amazing mind, it’s just exceptional. I envy your talent Hadia! No matter how much you write, its never gonna be enough, that’s how good you are! Keep up the amazing work! Kudos!

  5. This quite an adorable post, that really shows how talented you are at writing such stuff! 🙂
    Im reading your work for the first time and was inclined to comment on this cute post…

  6. When I envy, I think of something to counter the feeling, here, when I think how a one year old is free of all responsibilities, I then think, a one year old is also dependant on somebody for the very basic needs of life including food and movement. Independance can never be trumped by good social skill, right? Being the introvert I am, I’d rather be socially awkward sitting in a corner but at least I’d be able to eat and move on my own!

  7. Aww Aww Aww, This is truly amazing. I wasn’t really expecting her to be an infant at the end. Cool twist, you queen of fantasy. :3

  8. I was expecting the subject of the narrator’s envy to be bipolar or something.Maybe moody even.It crossed my mind once that it could be a baby but I dismissed that idea summarily;for it was improbable I felt.
    What a master con you are!
    It was only when you mentioned the uncle taking the photo that I knew that I had it right.Haha!
    But the ending tells me more about the narrator than the subject.I’m still in awe.Thank you for such a lovely piece! It was too good for words.Seamlessly blending in different realities.Just beautiful! 🙂

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