Draft 1 of part 1
Simone Evans. She had always thought her name peculiar but couldn't entirely vocalise why.
It could have been the strange reasons listed by her parents or it could have been how strange it sounded rolling out of someone's mouth-- like it shouldn't belong to her.
Either way, she couldn't decide what she would rather be called so she left it be.
This night was a night that no one was calling her name. A lonely, frigid night in her apartment. Lying on crisp bedding she sat watching the clock count down, or was it up?
All she could think of was the hours of sleep she was loosing.
And the other thing, of course.
But she convinced herself it was the worry of lack of sleep and the panic at the workload that awaited her at daybreak which was stealing those precious minutes of slumber.
Eventually the to do list grew to an unmanageable length in her mind, so she got up to write it all down.
Once she switched the light on, she left the list to pay attention to something more pressing; the real reason she was unable to finally drift off.
There it sat. Her newest business plan. Neatly laid out in well designed and properly worded pages. Colour coordinated tabs marked the sections she felt needed revision before presenting it to her board of trustees, well, potential trustees.
Success was not a stranger to Simone, her father trained her in business from such an early age, she feigned to remember a time when she didn't understand the concept. He was proud of her recent ventures and, like any supportive father should be, was pushing her towards her latest ideas. "Simone, this could be your breakthrough to your million. Taking that risk is what made me the man I am today!"
A nagging feeling tugged at her as she picked up the now overly familiar pages. Running her fingers through each section she could not help but consider what she was getting herself into.
This most recent venture required so much knowledge into the ocean, a knowledge base she never thought she would need.
A desire to truly discover a more feasible farming system to feed the worlds ever growing population brought her to this - fish. Well, to be fair, it wasn't really fish. Plankton was the correct terminology. She told herself she must NOT call them fish at the meeting on Thursday. That would be highly embarrassing.
This would also be the closest she would come in following in her fathers footsteps. A master ship builder with contracts to every military market imaginable. Something about the ocean must run in her blood.
Still, it was not about people as she would have hoped. Maybe this was the part of business she was not prepared for by her MBA, a world of people replaced by faces on the notes she would handle.
That was it.
She would try one last time to sleep and then, if that failed, an early start at the cafe on the fisherman's wharf would be in order.
5:45 am had arrived and she was already waiting at the door.
The mix of the strong ocean scent with the smell of baking cinnamon rolls was a strangely comforting aroma. They knew her order and brought it out to her table. Her usual spot to watch the sun rise and chat with the interesting individuals who wandered by the sea front was close enough to the walking path to people watch and far enough away to not be bothered, most of the time.
Ipad out, business proposal open, and coffee was being consumed. Ideal for having no sleep at all she thought.
Before she realised it, lunchtime had come and gone.
She was still typing furiously when someone down the street was causing quite a stir. It was a good a time as any to let work sit for a bit.
Straining her neck all she could see was an ordinary man walking along the path. He was well dressed but that alone was not enough to cause this sort of commotion.
He was just simply walking, but people were stopping and questioning him. Then, following him. As he got closer she could still not see anything about him that made him so special, so stoppable. Yet, she was here, pausing from her work to watch him pass by.
As he got closer there was a wave of intense, curiosity, was it? Excitement? Power?
Who was this man?
His path led him to about 10 feet away from her table where he stopped and turned to face her.
Her heart froze from its usual rhythm, was he looking at her? What could he be thinking?
Her questions were not long lived. He spoke straight to her. "Come, walk with me"
Simone Evans. She had always thought her name peculiar but couldn't entirely vocalise why.
It could have been the strange reasons listed by her parents or it could have been how strange it sounded rolling out of someone's mouth-- like it shouldn't belong to her.
Either way, she couldn't decide what she would rather be called so she left it be.
This night was a night that no one was calling her name. A lonely, frigid night in her apartment. Lying on crisp bedding she sat watching the clock count down, or was it up?
All she could think of was the hours of sleep she was loosing.
And the other thing, of course.
But she convinced herself it was the worry of lack of sleep and the panic at the workload that awaited her at daybreak which was stealing those precious minutes of slumber.
Eventually the to do list grew to an unmanageable length in her mind, so she got up to write it all down.
Once she switched the light on, she left the list to pay attention to something more pressing; the real reason she was unable to finally drift off.
There it sat. Her newest business plan. Neatly laid out in well designed and properly worded pages. Colour coordinated tabs marked the sections she felt needed revision before presenting it to her board of trustees, well, potential trustees.
Success was not a stranger to Simone, her father trained her in business from such an early age, she feigned to remember a time when she didn't understand the concept. He was proud of her recent ventures and, like any supportive father should be, was pushing her towards her latest ideas. "Simone, this could be your breakthrough to your million. Taking that risk is what made me the man I am today!"
A nagging feeling tugged at her as she picked up the now overly familiar pages. Running her fingers through each section she could not help but consider what she was getting herself into.
This most recent venture required so much knowledge into the ocean, a knowledge base she never thought she would need.
A desire to truly discover a more feasible farming system to feed the worlds ever growing population brought her to this - fish. Well, to be fair, it wasn't really fish. Plankton was the correct terminology. She told herself she must NOT call them fish at the meeting on Thursday. That would be highly embarrassing.
This would also be the closest she would come in following in her fathers footsteps. A master ship builder with contracts to every military market imaginable. Something about the ocean must run in her blood.
Still, it was not about people as she would have hoped. Maybe this was the part of business she was not prepared for by her MBA, a world of people replaced by faces on the notes she would handle.
That was it.
She would try one last time to sleep and then, if that failed, an early start at the cafe on the fisherman's wharf would be in order.
5:45 am had arrived and she was already waiting at the door.
The mix of the strong ocean scent with the smell of baking cinnamon rolls was a strangely comforting aroma. They knew her order and brought it out to her table. Her usual spot to watch the sun rise and chat with the interesting individuals who wandered by the sea front was close enough to the walking path to people watch and far enough away to not be bothered, most of the time.
Ipad out, business proposal open, and coffee was being consumed. Ideal for having no sleep at all she thought.
Before she realised it, lunchtime had come and gone.
She was still typing furiously when someone down the street was causing quite a stir. It was a good a time as any to let work sit for a bit.
Straining her neck all she could see was an ordinary man walking along the path. He was well dressed but that alone was not enough to cause this sort of commotion.
He was just simply walking, but people were stopping and questioning him. Then, following him. As he got closer she could still not see anything about him that made him so special, so stoppable. Yet, she was here, pausing from her work to watch him pass by.
As he got closer there was a wave of intense, curiosity, was it? Excitement? Power?
Who was this man?
His path led him to about 10 feet away from her table where he stopped and turned to face her.
Her heart froze from its usual rhythm, was he looking at her? What could he be thinking?
Her questions were not long lived. He spoke straight to her. "Come, walk with me"
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