blood ran cold. I had to leave that place and be alone. I rushed out and started running down Buchanan Street like a headless ghost from somebody’s past. Polly understood what had happened as soon as she saw the article. She paid for our coffees, cast a final longing glance at you and then followed me to the street. By the time she’d got out of the café I’d already disappeared into the maze of my desperate thoughts. Not a place for the uninitiated to venture.
* * * *
We had been in the café for a while as well. We didn’t miss a second of what had gone on. Particular heed was paid to the silent interaction between Cassandra and Oscar. They had met, at last. We spied his sketchbook and were surprised at the remarkable resemblance of his portrait of Cassandra. The way he had depicted her hinted at her secret. He’d stumbled upon it so effortlessly. He would disclose it to himself very soon.
Their encounter went as we had planned it. He fell for her the moment he laid his roving eyes on her face. What we could not get over, however, was the fact that she had not been impressed by him. Did she not recognise him? We had raised her frequency so that he could detect her more easily. Or at least his subconscious mind could. It had worked very well. He had been brilliant at following the signs. He was a good, attentive listener. And true to his well developed earthly nature, his stomach had taken him to the café and right next to her.
Cassandra disappointed us with her lack of sensitivity to the Plan. We had sent her all the signs towards Oscar along the way. Of course, she was young and still a bit incredulous. Nonetheless, her disregard for her mission was preposterous. Gordon had definitely dented her purpose. She had never misbehaved like that before. This had nothing to do with the quickening of her transformation, or the effects of the change in her body at the cellular level. There was something more worrying and sinister in the way she had refused to listen to her destiny. Her reverting to the past had nothing to do with her nature, with her True Identity: it was completely out of character. The seed of doubt had been planted in her consciousness. We feared the worst. There was only a group of people capable of piercing through such a crystal-clear mind. We feared they had found out about Cassandra. We had to find her as soon as possible. She could even be in danger. Or worse: she could be lost somewhere in space-time.
We left Oscar and his sketchbook in “Soul Food” and set out to follow Cassandra. Trying to tune into her frequency proved useless. Nothing. We tried looking for her through physical eyes. Zilch. She was nowhere to be seen. Her Core signature and Light were undetectable. That was the first time she’d disappeared from our radars during the twenty-five years of her life. Dark clouds loomed in the distance.
We returned to the café. From his table, Oscar had watched the scene of Cassandra’s sudden departure. What happened to the girl whose portrait had occupied him for the past twenty minutes? Where had she gone? He had been too busy sketching and familiarising himself with the new feeling in his heart. He couldn’t even articulate what this sensation was, and why he’d associated it to that lovely woman in the cream and beige dress, and the long brown hair, and the amazing suntan, and those big green eyes that pierced through his consciousness like embers. He was in love. Simple. Just like that. She was an enchantress. He could tell the type very well. Her latest antics had also revealed her as an eccentric and a bit of a drama queen. What an exit she’d made! It wouldn’t deter him from wanting the spoils of her heart all the same. He liked her quirky style and those emotions she wore on her sleeve. A crystal clear bundle of feelings, she was. Of the purest, deepest, most aware kind. He breathed in deeply, finished his coffee and kept at his drawing for another quarter of an hour. He
* * * *
We had been in the café for a while as well. We didn’t miss a second of what had gone on. Particular heed was paid to the silent interaction between Cassandra and Oscar. They had met, at last. We spied his sketchbook and were surprised at the remarkable resemblance of his portrait of Cassandra. The way he had depicted her hinted at her secret. He’d stumbled upon it so effortlessly. He would disclose it to himself very soon.
Their encounter went as we had planned it. He fell for her the moment he laid his roving eyes on her face. What we could not get over, however, was the fact that she had not been impressed by him. Did she not recognise him? We had raised her frequency so that he could detect her more easily. Or at least his subconscious mind could. It had worked very well. He had been brilliant at following the signs. He was a good, attentive listener. And true to his well developed earthly nature, his stomach had taken him to the café and right next to her.
Cassandra disappointed us with her lack of sensitivity to the Plan. We had sent her all the signs towards Oscar along the way. Of course, she was young and still a bit incredulous. Nonetheless, her disregard for her mission was preposterous. Gordon had definitely dented her purpose. She had never misbehaved like that before. This had nothing to do with the quickening of her transformation, or the effects of the change in her body at the cellular level. There was something more worrying and sinister in the way she had refused to listen to her destiny. Her reverting to the past had nothing to do with her nature, with her True Identity: it was completely out of character. The seed of doubt had been planted in her consciousness. We feared the worst. There was only a group of people capable of piercing through such a crystal-clear mind. We feared they had found out about Cassandra. We had to find her as soon as possible. She could even be in danger. Or worse: she could be lost somewhere in space-time.
We left Oscar and his sketchbook in “Soul Food” and set out to follow Cassandra. Trying to tune into her frequency proved useless. Nothing. We tried looking for her through physical eyes. Zilch. She was nowhere to be seen. Her Core signature and Light were undetectable. That was the first time she’d disappeared from our radars during the twenty-five years of her life. Dark clouds loomed in the distance.
We returned to the café. From his table, Oscar had watched the scene of Cassandra’s sudden departure. What happened to the girl whose portrait had occupied him for the past twenty minutes? Where had she gone? He had been too busy sketching and familiarising himself with the new feeling in his heart. He couldn’t even articulate what this sensation was, and why he’d associated it to that lovely woman in the cream and beige dress, and the long brown hair, and the amazing suntan, and those big green eyes that pierced through his consciousness like embers. He was in love. Simple. Just like that. She was an enchantress. He could tell the type very well. Her latest antics had also revealed her as an eccentric and a bit of a drama queen. What an exit she’d made! It wouldn’t deter him from wanting the spoils of her heart all the same. He liked her quirky style and those emotions she wore on her sleeve. A crystal clear bundle of feelings, she was. Of the purest, deepest, most aware kind. He breathed in deeply, finished his coffee and kept at his drawing for another quarter of an hour. He
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