Constance maneuvered her five feet, four inch frame, shifting her generous body weight from one leg onto the other to allow the blood to circulate in the leg that had been curled up underneath her for the past half hour or so. She sat perched on the padded floral patterned bench in front of the huge picture window overlooking a forest of trees lining the property along the back of her house, but her mind was on another trip through the memories of her past, something that was becoming a part of her normal routine.
In the world according to Constance Alexander Brown, there were three groups of people: pessimists, optimists and realists. She considered herself an elite member of the middle group. She’d always been that way, always opting to see the glass as half full instead of half empty.
That outlook carried throughout her personal and professional life, which was one of the reasons why’d always she held on to the notion, mostly subconsciously, and held for many years the slightest glimmer of hope concerning her and one man, her first true love, Tallen Alford. It didn’t matter that Constance was already married and had been for the past twenty-nine years to Phillip. And as far as she knew so was Tallen.
‘Isn’t it ironic how the thought of one particular person whom you’ve crossed paths with in life can occupy and rent space in your mind from time to time?’ Constance thought.
She, a latte-complexioned girl, whom, if she spoke one iota of Spanish, could easily pass for someone of Spanish descent with her dark eyes and coal black shoulder length hair, found herself yet again daydreaming about Tallen. Her smile widened as the boyish image of his handsome face flooded her mind.
Through her almost fifty years of life, Constance had often heard women admit that they too had sometimes frequent, recurring thoughts of their first love, thoughts that made them wonder about the ‘whats’ concerning their exes - what their exes current status was; what they looked like now; who they were with; what their mates looked like; did their exes ever think of them - too. And it didn’t matter how many eons had gone by, or how many other encounters of love they’d experienced since their first loves, many admitted they’d always hold a special place in their heart for that one person.
Constance smirked. Although she’d never admit this to anyone except her best friend, Randi Lynn, it certainly was no different for her. Those questions often plagued her mind when she thought of him. He was the first man who had captured her heart, her mind, and her soul, and had held them prisoner in some form or fashion ‘til this very day.
Constance’s mind conjured up another image of Tallen, a five foot, nine inch bow-legged track runner from her high school days. Her mind vividly recalled his soft brown eyes, his smooth complexion, the shade of toasted cinnamon, his not- too-thick yet not-too thin lips, and perfect white teeth that when he smiled, brightened the darkest midnight sky.
Was his hair showing signs of getting gray, as was hers? She chuckled. Hell, he might not have any hair at all! Had he retained his boyish, yet muscular frame or had gravity set in around his midsection? Constance shook her head to erase the smiling boyish image from her mind.
After almost thirty years, and as hard as she tried to forget about him, Constance had resigned herself long ago that Tallen still owned parts of heart and soul, but not her body. That had been freed many eons ago by a careless act of his own doing. As far as her mind was concerned, she couldn’t help but allow him to take up residence in there, and lately it was happening more times than she cared to admit, event to herself. The space he had staked out in her heart all those years ago would probably be there for all eternity, she surmised.
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