Creative Writing - Breakfast At Tiffanys

I had packed my bags ready for my ‘one – way’ trip to New York. The place where everybody need’s to visit at least once in their life. I thought to myself ‘I’m leaving in three hours and I don’t have anything ready’. On that note I decided to pack my bags and get everything I needed, and for this I made a checklist because if you knew me, you would soon recognise my memory resembles that of a goldfish.

I had everything; passport, tickets, wallet, phone, suitcase and my sanity.

I was in the taxi on my way to the airport, the start of my journey, thinking of what would be happening right now, where in some alternate universe I had a family or somebody to love. I hate it when I think like this! It just makes me wonder if I’m even more of a ‘loser!’ Day dreaming. Over thinking. When thankfully a voice interrupted my thought process, “Here is your stop madam, have a nice trip”.

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I thanked the taxi man and anxiously walked to the desk. It felt like I was on auto – pilot, counting each step, I left through the airport. I boarded the plane, found my seat, and waited.

I had been on the plane for nearly an hour and the flight was coming an end. I prepared myself to land. When I disembarked off the plane slightly fatigued as I was, I prepared myself for the impending chaos of the airport.

Fifteen minutes later I had managed to retrieve my luggage and locate a taxi that would take me to the apartment. We drove for approximately thirty minutes and when we finally arrived at the Crown Plaza Hotel, it was breathtaking. The architecture was exquisite, with Shakespearean paintings and murals located the walls. Chandeliers falling like teardrops from heaven. The lounge was decorated in an enticing coral pink and a warm mocha brown. The receptionist, formal but slightly uptight, welcomed me, “Hello madam, could I please take your reservation name?” I answered her, trying to mock her pretentious exterior and transparent smile. “This gentleman will now show you to your room, Miss Golightly”.

It was the most heavenly sleep I had ever experienced; it was like sleeping on delicate velvet. I got into the shower and the water tenderly caressed my body. A satisfying sensation which awoke me from my slumber. I dried my hair, applied my make up and changed into my wide legged trousers, a cami and a blazer jacket. My hair was neatly arranged and I had my sparkling array of diamonds scattered across my neck. I felt like I was back at home but with the sun shining and spreading its peaceful serenity through the balcony doors. I felt like the sun sensed how eager I was to discover the new world. New York.

On my travels I bought paint, a canvas and an easel with all the accessories. On my way back up the stairs, I felt a presence walking behind me. He must live in the apartments too. He saw what I was carrying and he spoke “Let me help you there, you can’t carry all that on your own”. He took my easel, canvas and my bag. He walked up the stairs in silence until we reached our doors. It turned out he lived opposite. He then said “My name is O.J Berman, Yours?” I looked and stuttered, “oh – my –name is – Holly”. This man was intriguing. His sleek hair, his darkened five o’clock shadow and his chiselled cheekbones enticed me. As the silence continued, he hastily said, “See you around” in a deep American accent. My stomach knotted and my knees buckled.

I went into my room, placed everything I was carrying on the kitchen counter, when I realised that he still had my bag! Canvas! And my easel! I ran out of the apartment, knocked on his door. No answer. My eyes focused to the ground and a tear swelled in my eye. I said to myself ‘You’ve done it again Holly’. Confusion flooded me, when I noticed he had left a note that read;

‘Dear Holly – Apartment 3A,

You will never see me again and you will never catch me.

O.J – Apartment 3B

I sank to the floor. I didn’t know what to do. He had all my personal, private drawings that I had done in places that I had visited before. He had my wallet, phone and my passport. I had no way of contacting home and I had no way of getting there.

I got up off the floor and went into my room and shut the door behind me. What do I do now? I have no friends or family here and it’s only my first day, Could this get any worse?

I have no memories, no wallet and no phone.

It was all gone. Everything I had lived for and had to live for was gone. It felt like I had been stabbed and someone was twisting the knife. Making everything even worse.