Saturday Fiction: When Words Fail You

Here's a short story with a twist. I hope you enjoy it.

My mind was a mess as I boarded the 14:20 train to Zurich. Our negotiations in Geneva had all but self-destructed. My co-founder flipped out and our bankers had barely managed to stop him from physically assaulting the arrogant narcissist across the table.

As I looked for a seat, I was mentally ripping through alternative after alternative, looking for a way to resurrect the deal. We had one day, maybe two, before our investors would convene to try and boot us out of our positions.

A hard tug on my shoulder interrupted my mental chatter. I had no choice but to stop. Anger rose in my chest as I turned to see who grabbed me.

No one was there. That made no sense. I glanced around. The train was empty. It should have been packed.

Then… I felt her presence, a lone woman sitting in a space sufficient for four. She was tucked against the window, just five feet away from me. Before any of her features registered in my conscious mind, I was overwhelmed by a sense of familiarity.

Her again, I thought. An irrational thought, utterly out of character for me. If I’m one thing, it’s rational.?

(To a fault, many say.)

It took me a minute to collect myself. She was nonplussed, patient.

She gestured with her hand, inviting me to sit across from her.

I did.

Settling into the seat, I took her in.

Or at least tried, and failed. Was she blond or brunette, slight or athletic? 30 or 40? I didn’t have a clue. She was beautiful, alluring, ethereal and commonplace. She was everything and everyone.

Do I sound rational to you? Hell no.

I know this sounds crazy, but that’s what I perceived.

Trying to break the ice, I started, “My name is….”

She held up a single finger, silencing me mid-sentence.

She handed me a note scribbled on a torn piece of paper.

THE USE OF LANGUAGE PRESUPPOSES THAT WE ARE SEPARATE.

We know each other. Yes.

We must. But how? Where? She was simultaneously a complete stranger and the most reassuring presence I had ever encountered.

What could I possibly say in response to a message like that??

(And when did she write it, my barely functioning rational brain asked?)

I felt her grasp my hand. Her touch was loving, familiar, instantly comforting.

I looked down. Her hands were three feet away from mine.

Reality glitched. It felt something like an earthquake, power failure and drinking binge condensed into a few seconds.

I blinked myself back into focus.

My eyes darted back to catch hers. She smiled.

Her finger traced the outline of my lips. Or so it felt. As before, there was no actual movement on her part.

Something shifted inside me and language disappeared from my toolkit. I had no words or thoughts, just feelings and instincts.

If you had asked me a question at that moment, I would not have understood the concepts of “question” or “answer” or “you”.

Then the train disappeared.

When I woke up two hours later in Zurich, she was gone, but I was a different person.

No longer did I feel like a Type A overachiever who can’t stop proving himself. I felt connected, loved and at peace.

That said, my left arm hurt a bit.

I scratched my forearm, and it hurt even worse. Pushing up my sleeve, I saw a new tattoo on my forearm.

LOVE EXISTS ONLY IN THE ABSENCE OF WORDS

It was a reminder from my soulmate, the one I had forgotten until now.

Kira.?

She had signed it.

Kira.

My grounding presence across a thousand lives, who maintains a strong foundation in the physical realm while crossing easily across countless spiritual dimensions.

When I get too deep into human existence, Kira is always there to nudge me back to my true nature. This time, she wasn’t taking any chances and left a guidepost I can follow throughout the rest of this life.

**

by Bruce Kasanoff, writer and executive coach