Nomad
by Sam DeCuicies
He had traveled the world and seen vast valleys and massive mountains, but nothing could ever compare to her beauty. She was a diamond shining amidst the dark and smoke-filled room. The pearls around her neck reflected any light that hit them. Her skin had been kissed by the sun, a striking difference to his paler complexion.
When he first spotted her, he stopped in his tracks and forgot for a moment that it was impolite to stare. He watched her make her way over to the bar, taking a seat on an empty stool. He straightened his tie and mustered up the courage to go over there himself, swallowing the lump in his throat and wiping his sweaty palms on his slacks. He took the vacant seat beside her and ordered his go-to drink, the bartender nodding in reply.
"I haven't seen you around before," she commented. He was surprised she had spoken first, and he smiled at the success of his endeavor.
"I'm a bit of a nomad," he replied, accepting his drink from the bartender. "I never really stay in one place for too long."
"I've been in this town my whole life," she sighed. "My father owns some of the casinos downtown, so I've been stuck here since I was born."
"Will your parents not let you leave?" he questioned, leaning forward as he spoke. She was facing him, and growing closer with each sentence she sighed.
"I'm afraid not," she answered sadly. "What kind of places have you visited?"
He began to describe his many adventures; castles, mountains, rivers, and jungles. One drink after another and recounting even more of the experiences he'd had in his twenty-five years.
The next morning he was awoken by sunlight shining in his eyes. He was in his hotel room, the curtains pulled back and his clothes from the night before strewn haphazardly around the room. His head was throbbing and he couldn't recall much, only the face of the woman who'd entranced him so deeply. he then realized she was nowhere to be found. Not a single thing left to prove she had been there except the phantom feeling of her lips on his.
When he finally got up and collected his things, he found his phone in the pocked of his blazer, but when he pulled out his wallet it felt strangely light. He opened it up and found all his credit cards missing. They were all connected to accounts run by his parents, a privilege from the wealth he was born into.
He couldn't help but laugh at his own misfortune and the events before him seemingly caused by karma or his own naivety. His father would chuckle, and hand him another card. His mother would shake her head and say that he was just like his father to be deceived by a beautiful woman. But he, himself, would never forget her face, or her clever wit. The light shade of lipstick she wore or the touch of her hand on his. For he had traveled the world and found no other woman who could so expertly enthrall him. He had been marked by a nomad like him, and maybe next year he'd return to this Vegas hotel again.
He had traveled the world and seen vast valleys and massive mountains, but nothing could ever compare to her beauty. She was a diamond shining amidst the dark and smoke-filled room. The pearls around her neck reflected any light that hit them. Her skin had been kissed by the sun, a striking difference to his paler complexion.
When he first spotted her, he stopped in his tracks and forgot for a moment that it was impolite to stare. He watched her make her way over to the bar, taking a seat on an empty stool. He straightened his tie and mustered up the courage to go over there himself, swallowing the lump in his throat and wiping his sweaty palms on his slacks. He took the vacant seat beside her and ordered his go-to drink, the bartender nodding in reply.
"I haven't seen you around before," she commented. He was surprised she had spoken first, and he smiled at the success of his endeavor.
"I'm a bit of a nomad," he replied, accepting his drink from the bartender. "I never really stay in one place for too long."
"I've been in this town my whole life," she sighed. "My father owns some of the casinos downtown, so I've been stuck here since I was born."
"Will your parents not let you leave?" he questioned, leaning forward as he spoke. She was facing him, and growing closer with each sentence she sighed.
"I'm afraid not," she answered sadly. "What kind of places have you visited?"
He began to describe his many adventures; castles, mountains, rivers, and jungles. One drink after another and recounting even more of the experiences he'd had in his twenty-five years.
The next morning he was awoken by sunlight shining in his eyes. He was in his hotel room, the curtains pulled back and his clothes from the night before strewn haphazardly around the room. His head was throbbing and he couldn't recall much, only the face of the woman who'd entranced him so deeply. he then realized she was nowhere to be found. Not a single thing left to prove she had been there except the phantom feeling of her lips on his.
When he finally got up and collected his things, he found his phone in the pocked of his blazer, but when he pulled out his wallet it felt strangely light. He opened it up and found all his credit cards missing. They were all connected to accounts run by his parents, a privilege from the wealth he was born into.
He couldn't help but laugh at his own misfortune and the events before him seemingly caused by karma or his own naivety. His father would chuckle, and hand him another card. His mother would shake her head and say that he was just like his father to be deceived by a beautiful woman. But he, himself, would never forget her face, or her clever wit. The light shade of lipstick she wore or the touch of her hand on his. For he had traveled the world and found no other woman who could so expertly enthrall him. He had been marked by a nomad like him, and maybe next year he'd return to this Vegas hotel again.
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