Prime Time

Another work-related charity event for Tim to attend.

And as always, it was hosted by the Mr. Perfect named Brend.

Tim groaned, peeking up at the muted TV on the wall.

Who would schedule this event during primetime football?

“Not only that, but I had to drive here at six.

Doesn’t he know that rush hour drivers are pricks?”

“Do you speak in rhyme often?” asked a female voice beside Tim,

making him jump in his spot, his drink spilling on him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, fetching a napkin in a hurry.

“It’s fine,” Tim said. “There’s no need to worry.”

He mumbled and grumbled, adding on to his dismay

while on the stage appeared Brend with of course something to say.

Kelli, the woman who startled Tim so

stood by and watched him, but he didn’t know.

She was the only person to not smile at Brend

because, at work, she had always reserved her smile for Tim instead.

“Are you usually this grumpy?” she asked with a laugh and a tease.

“Only when it’s busy like this…” said Tim. “He’s there now—oh geez!”

Kelli looked to the stage, seeing Brend in his suit so handsome and fine.

Tim groaned. “Of course everyone claps. He’s living in his prime.

Raising money for kids in the hospitals, no less.

Who would want to tell him nothing but yes?”

“There you go, rhyming again,” Kelli said with a giggle.

Tim grabbed a wine bottle whose cork he started to wriggle.

“Maybe I’m the next Shakespeare,” he said with a twist and a turn.

“I’ll finally know something that Brend did not learn.”

Why didn’t he look at her? Even at work, he compared all with Brend.

Still, many hints and signals toward Tim, Kelli did send.

She even left him balloons on the days he felt down.

With her K in the middle, but he popped them all with a frown.

Even here, she knew he attended to give to the children with all of his heart,

regardless if his voice wasn’t heard amongst this crowd that was busy from the start.

“A man who gives more than takes,” Kelli said with a smile.

“That’s the type of man I haven’t seen in a while.”

“Well, there he is, accepting his prize,” Brent replied, still stuck with the cork.

What was with this thing? Maybe he should stick it with a fork.

‘Not him!’ thought Kelli with an audible sigh.

‘You, you idiot!’ This man just must have been high!

“Here, let me try.” Kelli inched forward to help him with the bottle of wine.

“Got it!” declared Tim, pulling the cork out this time.

His hand struck her glass, spilling her wine on her dress.

The impact sent her tumbling—straight toward the three-tiered cake no less.

Tim reached out to grab her, setting the bottle on the table.

Grab her, he could; but save her, he was not able.

Into the cake they went, falling into a mountain of chocolate and cream.

The crowd gasped and some jumped. Somewhere, someone screamed.

Tim propped himself up, not caring for the crowd this round.

Kelli glanced up at him with cake on her face, not making a sound.

Seeing the K on her neck, Tim could not help but say,

“You’re the one who gave me the balloons those days.”

Kelli smiled at him, making his statement clear.

Brend rushed over and asked, “What’s going on over here?”

But Tim did not look: for once, the other man’s presence was gone

because now he did realize what he’d missed all along.