First, they exchanged glances, then, after a polite enough amount of time, smiles. She was sitting alone in the booth, a glass of white wine, a Kindle, and an iPhone on the table in front of her. He liked how her dark hair spread over her shoulders; it made her seem composed and confident. In the room to the side of them both was a bachelorette party--subdued giggling, some hand-clapping, chocolate penises occasionally raised over young heads. He sat alone, too, and she watched him scribble things in a notebook, his left ring finger as encumbered as her own.
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The night of the party, I worked because Maggie was sick. The party turned out to be smaller than expected, so I spent most of the evening watching the man at the table and the woman in the booth. They never said a word but kept looking at each other, smiling when the party girls got loud or said something racy. I gave them both a free glass of wine so they'd stay longer because I hoped they'd get closer, maybe start speaking. They seemed meant for each other. I was sadder than they were when they each left alone.
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1 comment:
These Call and Response pieces you're writing are a real pleasure to read. They are just long and short enough to intrigue and satisfy. Please write more.
It's easy to imagine these pieces in printed form. I see an open book: "call" on the left page, "response" on the right page.
These pieces bring to mind another favorite collection. Kawabata's "Palm of the Hand Stories."And also Hass's "Human Wishes," which I just re-read.
Your Call and Response form, though, is truly uniquely your own. So clearly in your voice, the pieces let us see the world through your eyes even as you vary the point of view.
You're on to something.
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