Date: Wed, 16 May 2007 11:16:27 -0700 (PDT)
From: Vincent V <french_kisses46@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Momentun of Oppertunity /Chapter 2

     This story is a fiction influenced by a true story.........

This is my second installament.   As always questions or comments are much
welcomed but not demanded.

Thanks


			The Momentum of Opportunity

Chapter Two



	His eyes open upon hearing a painful screech, snapping from his
drowsy daze he looks to the back of the train where the noise was coming
from. Pressed to the rear seat of the cart was a young woman.  Perhaps in
her early twenties, her skin the black of molasses outlines herself against
the dark orange seats. In her arms she rocks a small child, wrapped in
layers of thin blankets. She rocks and cradles the small being hoping to
silence his screams but to no avail. You can tell she was only doing what
she had seen, perhaps from a friend or a mother. She's only doing what she
thought she was supposed to do. The baby's head bobbles vigorously as she
shakes and jolts in order to seduce the child in to a deep slumber. If only
it was that easy. Somehow something inside him feels for her. He began to
imagine her life and her shortcomings, his heart ached as he watched
her. Her bags packed to the full, not even a hair pin could've have fit. He
does this often, starring at various people and guessing their
lives. Mapping out their stories and how they were just too fortunate to
appear before his eyes. Oddly enough these stories were never the most
pleasant of tales. He would always pick that lonely fellow eating at the
fancy restaurant all by himself. Perhaps he missed a date and stays, hoping
she'll show up at the last minute with a worthy excuse at hand. Or maybe
his wife just passed and he wants to maintain the tradition of eating at
their favorite place. Just to keep a part of him alive. As Ocean watches
his selected people he's not exactly fond of it, but it makes him care, it
allows him feel the compassion, but most importantly it makes him feel less
alone.
         The woman looks up and catches his eyes, glancing at him from a
slither through her thick lashes as if to say "you have no idea what life
is like." He knew all too well, not quite as much as rocking babies to
sleep but just enough to know that sleeping is not always as voluntary as
it seems.

        Looking out the window the scenery has changed, night has fallen
upon the earth but it was far from dark. The thousands of tiny orange
lights flooded his vision, from top to bottom, from east to west. They
shine like individual stars of hope granting him a new start, or even
forgiveness. He wanted to believe it, though he knew that even those
wonderful little lights would eventually fail him. So many times before
they shine as bright as they can to show people the way, but like any other
lights, these too would eventually burn out.

"Last stop....... Paris"

A tired voice crawls from the back of the cart from the control room.

        Ocean almost wished that the conductor would've been the least more
excited, it would've certainly helped. The train glided to a rather smooth
stop as people began to scurry toward the exits. The baby is quiet now and
the woman near the back was first to leave, clutching the child while
wrestling with two large suitcases and an oversized cotton bag, she
shuffles pass the far too narrow aisle. Ocean jumped to his feet to assist
her, almost tripping over himself. Lately he has been experiencing a growth
spurt and coordination seems to have been the last of his masteries. The
pair of white Addidas's that he wore were two sizes too big which didn't
offer much help to his heroism. As he reached for the suitcase, scanning
her face for approval, she shot him a quick smile that seemed more like a
jerk. With that, she forced her way through the growing crowd and into the
corridor of the station, dragging and tugging at the toppling baggage
behind her

"Maman, maman, wake up, we're here. We're in Paris." His voice somehow in a
shallow whisper.

He shook her shoulders gently and began gathering their belongings, two
small suitcases and one large duffel bag. His mother kept her small brown
purse at her side.

"Let's wait until the traffic settles for a bit before we go. How was the
ride, you still hate trains?"

She faintly smiled a shallow smile that almost made him mirror the
expression.  He wanted more than anything to move those dormant muscles on
his cheeks but he lacked the reasons. To do so would be giving in, letting
her know that everything is OK when nothing could be further from the
truth. The clogging at the exit seemed to have dispersed; he steps over her
legs and pushes toward the corridor. His mother followed but quickly took
the lead.

"Are we going to the airport right away?"

"Yes, there's no point in moping around here, we'll just be wasting time
and money anyways."

"I want to see the tower, I've never seen it, father would always promise
he'll take---"

"Stop talking about your father, he's gone. You need to learn to get over
it and let go. Besides, the tower is right outside the station and you'll
still get to see it."

The station was dark with dirty tiles lining the ground; it's hard to
imagine how they all used to be white at one point. The walls dripped with
a milky yellow liquid that seemed to be leaking from every rusty pipe above
them. A series of corridors flooded with bodies dashing one way or the
other without ever stopping to live. It seemed like everyone was sporting
the same long black coat with a grey scarf wrapped simply to push their
necks high above the ground and their eyes glancing over the heads of
everyone else. It's as if each individual was searching for someone or
something amongst the dense crowd. Ocean looked down at his forest green
coat; his father gave it to him for his fifteenth birthday nearly a year
ago. A thin button up military style coat just up to his belt buckle,
barely, it's not exactly a winter coat. He started to grow out of it a
couple months back but it still fits. Besides, it also works. His brown
corduroy pants were slightly baggy but surely not enough to tempt a
nun. His earmuffs are a bit disheveled from the nap on the train, leaving
his light brown hair in groups of spontaneous spirals. He felt out of
place..... He was out of place. Then again he'd much rather be seeing
actual people rather than being forced to gaze at the leaky ceiling for
unseen hopes. Besides, what could possibly be so hopeful about a train
station bleeding with yellow puss?

	As they approached the exit from the train station the circulation
of people have been reduced to a trickle. The giant clock on top of the
train schedule read eight thirty three P.M. Stepping outside, the cool air
mixing with the patented smells of the city was invigorating. He took a
deep breath to ease his nerves from the train and dropped the bags at his
side to stretch his long arms and let out a yawn of relief. He stopped to
watch all the lights flooding the sky along with the busy streets, the
scurrying people, and the dozens of vendors selling roasted chestnuts. He
found that the smells and sounds of bustling Paris were giving him a spark
in his mood.

"Come on Ocean, there's no time for sightseeing; we have to check in at the
motel.  For god's sake why can't you just be a little sharper? Your mind is
always so clouded, that's not a good thing to have in America."

She lightly kicks the suitcases signaling him to pick them up.

The two moved across the stations courtyard and onto the busy street. From
the corner of his eyes he spots a large massive steel structure, outlined
by thousands of tiny bright lights. The massive object towering over the
city with the presence of pure silent beauty gave him a sense overwhelming
awe.

"It's beautiful mom, the Eiffel Tower! Look!

His mother turned to look up at the giant steel structure that represented
the very face of France. She moved closer to her son and gently placed a
hand on his shoulder, almost hoping he wouldn't feel it. She gazed on,
tracing the lights around the base all the way to the top until they
grouped together and was no longer visible.

"It's amazing seeing it in person huh?"

"Yes it is honey," her voice a mere whisper with faint traces
serenity. "Its magnificent mon cherri, it really is."

Realizing her hand resting on his shoulder he turned his head towards
her. He hasn't remembered the last time he hugged his mother but this
feeling was close enough. Scared to move, he remained as still as possible
trying to soak up the sensation as much as he could. He stares in silence
and embraces the scene for all its worth. He's trying to snap this picture
in his mind and store it away where he could later retrieve it whenever he
wanted. After all, this could be the last time he will see the Eiffel Tower
again.

"Come on its late, the streets here can get nasty at night. The last thing
we need is our money stolen.

With that she quickly brushed by him, leaving a breeze strong enough to
flutter the few strands of hair that flickered on his forehead. He picked
up the bags and followed down a dark street that would lead to the 13th
arrondiismant. He didn't look back.