Sorbet Best Served Warm

My name is Amanda and my life is flashing before my eyes. It's not what you would expect from those fake recounts - a movie reel film like flashback of good old lively days. What I am seeing now is a jumble of images from the deepest recess of my subconsciousness. Reality is dimming and I can barely feel the pelting rain on my cold skin. I must have broken all my limbs in the long fall. My breath is slowing and the pain is receding. I thought I saw an unfamiliar flash of orange behind the translucent images. Also, for the last time, I should try smiling. Not those business-like smile I save for my clients. An honest smile. Because at least in death will the World see a huge change. As I watch a memory of a regal old man patting a youth's head, I smiled faintly. The warmth of his hand on this cold day could break my infamous icy expression at work. That was a long time ago. If only my colleagues could see Amanda Briona now. The beautiful yet amorous office lady of a large insurance corporation in her light mint colored sundress with faint cone shapes permanently splattered with mud. The women would be snickering how their biggest competition is long gone. But they were not my concern. The men? I bet a few of my boyfriends would be bailing their eyes out at my would-be funeral. They were the least of my concern too. All this time, you have been my sore target. The more I crave for your attention, the further you get from me.

Before i return to my old man's comforting arms, I wondered - how long before you can see me?