“Flight 46 from Rio to Orlando is departing in five minutes. Again, Rio to Orlando, five minutes.” Saige quickly parted her long, blonde hair right down the middle and pulled her stockings up, and her skirt down. She briskly walked out of the bathroom, briefcase in hand. She took an isolated seat by the window, reviewing her notes.

“Zone A,” announced the attendant, “now boarding all passengers from Zone A.” Saige kept reading.

“Ma’am,” whispered a towering man above her. Saige was dozing off now, and jumped.

“Can I help you sir?”

The man continued, “Before I tell you anything, I’m not crazy. And I’m not a drug dealer.” Saige took off her glasses. “I have this small package that will add no weight to that briefcase of yours. Please madam, please take it.”

Saige, creeped out, forced a smile saying, “Sir, as much as I’d like to help you, I am afraid that I am not the girl for this job.”

“Now boarding Zone B. I repeat, B,” continued the flight attendant.

“We live in the year 2012 lady, 911 did happen; these aren’t drugs, it made it through security.”

Saige, a little bit intimidated now replied, “Sir leave me alone.”

“What about for five thousand dollars?” he added.

Piles and piles of thoughts at this point spun around in young Saige’s head. The boyfriend, the hoped for, expensive wedding, the leak in the bathroom ceiling of the apartment, the heels that she will have to return after the party two weeks from Friday, and the five cans of soup that she has been rotating for the past four months. However, Saige didn’t have time for this, and she did have time for morals. She hesitated, yes, but her answer was still a polite, “No.” Zone C was now boarding and she walked straight ahead. She leaned over to adjust her heel, and the man leaned too. Instead he leaned with a manila envelope that happened to make its way into her case. She handed her boarding pass to the nice lady at the desk and took her aisle seat in the second to last row of the aircraft.

The nine and a half hour flight was cut in half after Saige’s five hour nap. She had gotten no sleep in the crummy hotel in Brazil. And she needed to sleep too, because she had to be in the office for six tomorrow morning, story in hand. Saige would do anything for a raise in her job; it was really what she loved to do. The next morning came rather quickly, and her boss was thrilled with the material of the piece.

“We needed a new, excited journalist, and I think we might’ve just found her,” he claimed. Saige smiled and thanked him, returning to her cubicle in the back corner of the office.

Two weeks had now passed since Saige handed in the successful story of what she experienced in Rio. Her desk was now larger, her boyfriend was happier, and her income was much higher. She was typing at an extremely quick rate when she took a break for a quick snack. She reached into the zipper compartment of her briefcase for some Ritz crackers, but they seemed to be buried down pretty well. She felt her hand down the side of the lining, and felt a long envelope; she pulled it out and opened it.

Inside, there were five items that had no relation to each other whatsoever: a pair of sunglasses, an old, faded candy bar wrapper, a leaf of a random purple flower, an apron, and a photograph of a young, beautiful lady, probably in her early twenties standing in front of a large brick house with navy shudders. She had red hair that was almost brown, like a milkshake that had been half-blended. She smiled a thin smile; she was elegant and poised looking. Inside, Saige found a note written in sloppy cursive that she could barely make out. She put on her glasses.

“I’ve gone everywhere possible to try and find a trustworthy looking person to take part of my life with them. If you got this note then I either became desperate, or saw someone who I believed could do this for me. This is a picture of my dearest Eleanor. I am not sure what you kids use these days to find people; I think it’s called the “Facestory” or “Headbook.” Well whatever it is, Ellie wouldn’t be a part of that. I met her many moons ago on her family vacation to Brazil. Maybe I liked her more than she liked me, but it should be like that right? Please use these clues to find her; she’s from Orlando.”

Saige smiled an uncontrollable, girly grin. She was a sucker for a good love story herself, but really, this was crazy. She closed the envelope and got back to work. She really had been stressed lately; her work had been putting a lot of pressure on her. Luckily, the weekend was on the horizon, so she had a break. She decided to head to downtown and investigate. She noticed three letters on the back of the glasses: BBB. This was a store that she had read about in the newspaper. She found the address and arrived at the store. She showed the clerk the glasses, and he moved them around in his hand, feeling the surface. He explained that he hadn’t seen a pair like these in over thirty years. She continued down the street in her Pilot and found a flouriest shop. She ran inside and showed the man the petal.

“Perhaps a rose?” he suggested. Saige stormed out in rage; he was of no help. She then entered the candy store across the street and showed the wrapper. The clerk smiled expressing his love for that savory candy that he used to suck on as a child.

Saige wasn’t one to give up. She was going to find this woman, whoever she was, for this man. She felt the objects in her hands. The last one that she hadn’t touched was the apron. It had grease stains on it, and one prominent stain right above the pocket. It was a faded violet color, almost like the color of a blueberry after being squished by a shoe. She grabbed her phone and looked up every diner in that part of town. Three popped up for the results. She drove to “Sandy’s” first, but the result was a bust. There was a “For Rent” sign on the front. The next diner had one waitress, and she had never heard of anyone names Eleanor. Her last hope was “Parkway Diner.” She drove over and walked in with her head held high, praying, hoping for an answer.

“Hello, ma’am,” said Saige. “I was wondering if you happened to know someone here by the name of Eleanor?”

“Ellie’s shift ended for today. She’s probably home by now. Do you have a name for me to mention to her?” the waitress asked.  Saige shook her head.

“About how long ago did her shift end?”

“An hour ago,” was the lady’s reply.

Saige, experiencing major déjà vu, got back in her car and slowly continued down the street in search for this brick house. She passed white houses, small houses, red houses, all houses. Not one brick one. She hadn’t lost hope yet. Saige kept driving ahead and she spotted in the distance a large house. She put on the glasses so she could see; the sun was extremely bright. She pulled up to the house and sat there for a minute. Proud of herself, knowing that she could do it, she got out of the car and walked up the steps. She peeked inside. Inside sat a happy family: two parents, and three full grown children. It looked like they were married. She saw a gray-haired lady lean over to serve dessert to a man; he exchanged his plate with a kiss. On her sweater was a purple flowered pin, and in his bowl sat a piece of candy on his mound of blueberry ice-cream. Across the table sat a young, poised girl with reddish brown hair, like a milkshake that had been half-blended. Saige held up the photograph in comparison, and only their clothes separated them. Saige left the happy family and drove home, upset. She headed into the office on Monday morning with her coffee in hand.

She took her seat at her desk when her boss came over to her and asked, “Saige, have you ever experienced heartbreak?” Saige had a steady boyfriend, so no. But her answer was yes. “We are asking each journalist to write a piece that is personal to them; are you up to it?”

Of course Saige responded with, “Yes sir.” Her paragraph began.

“Maybe he liked me more than I liked him, but it should be like that right?” She felt the wrapper, held the apron, examined the photograph, traced the glasses, and smelt the flower. Saige pressed the back arrow. She had her limits.