For Gospodin Chekhov
Stuttering Simon Howard gulped nervously as the gracious period at the end of his previous sentence gave him enough pause to gather his thoughts. It would be wishful thinking for the reader to believe that Simon Howard was a confident man. Despite his level of confidence, however, he was in love. The beautiful Nora Wellesley was the business man’s daughter, and she had inherited her father’s stern and stoic demeanor. She raised a thin and silken eyebrow as Simon said, “W-well if you think about it it’s really more of a...of a...business proposal!”-Simon had nearly shouted out “business proposal” out of mere excitement for having found the words- “It’s really just the joining of our...assets!”
Nora’s other shapely eyebrow joined its sister.
“And it’s not as though I come to this...um...merger without anything to offer.”
Simon rummaged through the deep woolen pockets of his overcoat. When his hand had returned from its journey it held a small black box of velvet.
“A r-ring. F-for you,” he stammered.
He tried to open the box so that its prize faced its intended recipient, but it wouldn’t open. Puzzled Simon brought it closer to his eyes where he discovered it was facing the wrong way.
“For”-he cleared his throat- “you,” he said.
The box popped open. Nora made a half-hearted attempt to peer into the gift’s packaging. When she did she let out a “Hmph!” that was meant to serve as a laugh.
“It’s not much, but—”
“You’re telling me it’s not much,” the businessman’s daughter said.
Simon was a little confused. He made the front of the box face him. To his horror the ring was gone. In its place was a small crumpled up piece of paper. Simon was breathless, but not in the good way. He picked up the piece of paper and un-crumpled it. It was a note. In a scrawled handwriting were the words, “Ha ha snoghead!”
“Nora...I...my brother...”
Simon Howard’s younger brother of ten was a wicked boy, and any reader who thinks that Simon was on cloud nine by the end of his visit to Nora Wellesley is sorely mistaken.
