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Annabelle is an enhanced memory of when I came to California, the school I attended and the man I married. Here is a sample:"Thank heavens there was no line at the counter. With ticket in hand, she raced down the corridor and up the escalator and to the frustratingly long security line. When she finally got through, she hurried down the long, second floor corridor, reading the numbers above her as she passed under them. When she found the right section, she plopped into a seat near a massive window to await the plane's departure.Relieved to have made it on time, Annabelle took a moment to catch her breath. As she did so, she became aware of just how cold she was. She unzipped her bag of essentials, rummaged through it and remembered with irritation that she had left her jacket in the cab.She rubbed her arms. "Shoot," she mumbled. What a way to start a new adventure -- without a wrap! It's a good thing I chose L.A., she thought.She had caught the attention of the man sitting across from her. She had been aware of his eyes on her from the moment she had sat down and started going through her bag. He was still staring at her with amusement. She glanced up uncomfortably, intending only to quickly glance his way to see what his deal was, and as she did so, something strange happened. His dark eyes completely captured her attention.He smiled warmly at her. He was a handsome man, and very big. Whoa. In fact, thick ropes of muscle wound up his forearms, to disappear under his tee shirt sleeves. Whoa again.His face was framed with thick, curly, coal black, shoulder-length hair. He smiled at her again, nodding slightly. But Annabelle gave him only a cursory nod and no smile. She was not interested in men. Not now. Not even handsome strangers who were roped with muscle.Maybe never again, she thought."Are you cold?" he asked her. "You can use my -- ""No," she lied. "I'm not cold, but thanks anyway."He smiled and glanced over at her bare arms. Goose pimples covered every square inch of her upper arms. He knew she was lying. She turned away, certain he was the most well-built man she had ever seen. Annabelle turned in her seat to avoid all eye contact. No men. Not now. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts.Annabelle pulled a mirror out of her purse to check her throbbing face. Her jaw was swollen and her eye turning purple. She quickly patted make-up around the bruise to hide the discoloration. She snapped the compact shut, shoved it back into her purse and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. The man continued to watch her every move. She could feel his eyes; sense them on her. From behind the shades, she risked another glance at him and he immediately smiled at her. She quickly looked away.***Just as Annabelle found a comfortable position, the flight attendant stepped into the room and said that numbers one through ten could go aboard. "Oh great," she mumbled, seeing that she was number 57-A.Finally, the numbers, including her seat, were called, and she walked along the narrow ramp and to the back of the plane. Right by the toilets, she thought bitterly. Just my luck.She struggled with her bag, but it kept falling back down. As if that was not enough, the man she was trying to avoid placed his suitcase in the cubicle over her head with complete ease. She frowned and placed her luggage in the seat next to her."Pardon me, ma'am, but I am 57-B," he said. "I guess destiny would have me sitting next to the lovely lady in seat 'A'. Here let me assist you with your luggage." He picked up her carry-on bag with one hand and placed it next to his in the overhead compartment.As he sat down beside her, she felt an unusual energy coming from him. She had already noticed that he was physically fit, but now she sensed something more, like a spiritual force. She studied his face and said, "Thanks for your help."
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