I’m Looking

I’m looking forward to tonight. I’ve been waiting a whole year for this to happen and tonight it’s finally going to happen!

I’m not the kind of person who gets excited. I have a very calm aura, you know. I’m sure you’ve noticed.

But I’m excited about tonight. Excited.

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “I’m looking.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

6 thoughts on “I’m Looking”

  1. I’m looking toward to thong sandals & not having to wear a jacket. I’m excited about warmer weather, about the Third Avenue Stroll & going to see the cherry blossoms at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden.

  2. The song “I’m looking over a four-leaf clover” could have been a theme song for the 1950’s. WWII was over; the “boys” were home; we were sure the American Dream was now reality, so sure that we engaged in the Marshall Plan to support financially destitute Europe. The Cold War at that time was really only a cold one; no one could even fathom it becoming hot. Talk about “Fantasy Island”.

    Looking over the rhetoric this 2016 election year it appears we would like to re-populate that fantasy time. Not so. Reality is what we have. It’s our destiny to become used to the character builders of disorder and chaos..

  3. I’m looking forward to moving into my new home way across the state of Maine from whence I came. Closer to better medical care and, should the need arise, only two hrs. into Boston for top notch care. I’m looking so forward to living on two acres surrounded by woods, stone walls, curving county roads. Even though I will miss my beautiful view of the bay during dinner on the East coast, I am looking forward to being back in the woods which I love so much. I’m not concerned about missing the bay too much because when I need my “water fix” I’ll traipse down to Portsmouth, NH and get it without having to spend an overnighter. It’s awfully nice at my age to be able to be looking forward to something sweet again. Who knows? I may meet a bear I like.

  4. “I am looking, “I said, I am looking as Myles hung half way over his bed with his head barely touching the floor. There is nothing under this bed, “I promise,” I shouted beginning to lose my patience. What was supposed to be a sleep inducing bedtime story turned into anything but… concluding “There is an Alligator Under My Bed “was the wrong choice.

  5. Amneris walked into the shoe store as if she owned the place. She had seen what she wanted in the window, and she was hoping that they had her size in stock. She always had problems getting high heel shoes. She was petite and had the feet to proportionately match her size.

    The store was empty, and she was looking around at some shoes on display.

    “May I help you?”

    The deep voice startled her, and she turned to face a man about her age smiling at her. His blue eyes shone brightly making his dimples look adorable. He had a well-trimmed beard and dark brown hair neatly slicked back. Amnerys realized she was staring and was struggling to focus on what she wanted to ask.

    “I’m looking for the red leather shoes you have on display in the window in a 5½ size. Do you have that size in stock?”

    “As a matter of fact,” he said, smiling, “we got a new shipment this morning, and I know we have that size. Personally, I think your size is the perfect size for a woman.”

    He stretched his hand and led her to a chair. “I’ll be right back.”

    Amnerys had been taken by his looks and charms and tried to remain focused. He walked in her direction with the opened shoe box in his hands and knelt in front of her as he removed her right shoe. He slipped the red shoe on and said, “A beautiful shoe, for a most beautiful lady…”

  6. The old curio shop was old and musty.
    Dimly lit.
    It smelt of old leather and newspapers and stale coffee grounds . It was delightful. I loved these old shops. They had this air of mystery about them . And history, peeking out of every corner.
    A staircase led to the first floor,it was lined with old, narrow, maroon carpet and on the edges balanced large bronze and brass pots. They were battered and spoke of ancient , hoary , royal past. Large,round handles dangled from both the sides.
    Huge tapestries with hunting scenes depicted on them , hung from the roof , their grimy fringes touching heads and getting greasier. There were dusty glass cases with silver hairpins and combs , daggers and sandals , coins and seals , all family heirlooms , once prized and now open for sale , after decades and centuries of being treasured, hoarded.
    I suddenly bumped into an old wizened man smiling broadly , rubbing his hands in glee.
    “Yes , ma’am, can I help you ?”
    “I am looking for a birthday gift for a history buff.”

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