Prompt #2
Write a scene showing a man and a woman arguing over the man's friendship with a former girlfriend. Do not mention the girlfriend, the man, the woman, or the argument.
“You take care.” The voice
flitted through the din of the crowded café. With a quick wave and a smile, he
let her know that he acknowledged the comment and returned the sentiments. With
a contented sigh, he turned back to the tiny table for two by the window. With
the skill of a nautical officer, he navigated through the crowd of coats,
scarves, and prickly beards to return to his seated companion. Before sitting
down, a string of words were lifted on the steam of the coffee to his ears.
“She seems nice.” That shrill
voice sounded like a bow being pulled across the strings of an overly taut
violin. With a shrug, he sat down on the crooked stool and pushed his Ray Band
glasses up further on the straight nose of his. This nonchalant response had
not yielded the wanted response, unfortunately. The contented smile began to
fade as it met with a line; a hard, blood red line, that seemed to grow thinner
every minute. It fell in perfect accordance with the unimpressed eyes that
bored through the long black lashes, straight across the chipped formica table.
“Yeah, I hadn’t seen her in a
while. It was nice to talk to her,” and
nothing more, he wished to add to calm the roiling presence before him. He
didn’t dare bring up the notion, in fear of opening a new altercation in the
already stormy waters.
“I thought she’d already moved
to Africa.” The red line formed the words slowly, her motions matching the
cadence of the words. Deliberately, the spoon turned the froth of the latte
into a swirling whirlpool of lights and darks. His eyes followed the spoon…
carefully, analyzing the next move. For if it were the wrong one, this ship
would sink in a fiery blaze.
“Her plane leaves next week. I
am glad I could say goodbye. I’ll probably be too busy here to worry about her
there.” The words sounded somewhat shaky to his mind, yet they seemed to be in
a steady enough course to not trigger any sort of alarm. Reading those eyes
could have been classified as a Herculean task. It was always a mystery as to
what they told once clouded over in this misty green mood.
“You would worry about her more
here, than in Africa? Well… isn’t that sweet of you.” There could have been a
low rumble coming from those words, or it could have been the drunk fisherman
at the bar chuckling heartily at the little man beside him. It was impossible
to tell. Looking… no, searching for anyway out of the sea of awkward that had
enveloped the two, a lightbulb flashed as if by an imaginary camera. Pulling
the corner of him mouth upward slightly and slowly reaching out, their hands
met over a scratch in the table shaped like a wave drawn by a three year old.
The darker skin of his fingers trailed over the pale blue vein that traveled
down the top of the delicate hand then back up, gently… lovingly.
“You know I worry about you
more, though.” His eyes moved from studying the delicacy of her hand to staring
over the tops of his Ray Bands to meet her icy eyes, “Don’t you?” In the moment
their eyes locked, he waited. Waited for some indication that the storm would
pass or whether to settle in for a long night. Slowly, ever so slowly, the ice
began to melt as the runoff inflated the red line into a curved one. Placing
her other hand on his, her thumb moving up and down like a dog’s wagging tail
across his worn hands.
“Now
I do.” The reassured whisper was the exhale of relief. Voila! How did I do? I don't think I really "mentioned" any of the unmentionables, so I'll call that a success.
This is Meg, signing off.
IN CASUS PERGIT
No comments:
Post a Comment