about face
Late at night. Most people would be sleeping by now, but not him. He's waiting for something. He's waiting for someone. A non-specific time of arrival keeps him on the edge of his seat.
What if they don't show? What if he is boring? What if he looks like shit? Is everything perfect?
The fireplace is burning. There is a loud crack of wood. Flames dance across the walls. There's a primal glow to the whole room. It is soothing. Open fires bring out primal instincts.
He sits down and hems two pairs of pants while he waits. He hates to sew. He does it well though. He does anything well if it is a one time occurence.
Finished he puts them on, walks out of the room, stands in front of a mirror. Not too bad looking.
He turns on the tube. Depressing fiction from another's mind fuels his own personal fire of insecurity. He sits in the chair and smokes.
It's still later. The doorbell rings. He jumps to attention and answers the door.
Eyes that are bluer than blue greet him. And a smile. The eyes are tired but striking still. 5'11" of gangling youth are in the hall. Perfect face, perfect teeth, perfect eyes are in his doorway. "Enter and sign in please." he says.
Seconds pass and Face enters, He's stretched out on the couch even quicker.
"The fire is nice."
"Are you hungry?"
"Yes."
Stretched on the couch, basking the fire glow, he receives a Pepsi (never Coke) and some chips, always sour cream cheddar.
"Snack on this. I'll make something."
Seering beef smells fill the apartment. Fragrant spices cause salivation.
Slowly he eats his steak. Is our hero pushing it down or really enjoying it? You can tell he is tired. He eats only two thirds. This is not unususal.
He stretches out on the the couch again, Right knee of ripped jeans against the upright cushions, he burrows the back of his head into a pillow.
"Is the TV too loud?"
"No."
Stillness abounds. Serenity is fallen. He goes back to his chair and smokes, watches the show.
"If I nod off, wake me at quarter to."
"Okay."
Regular breathing sounds signal sleep. He smokes and watches, He feels comfortable. It is very satisfying. It is very transient,
"It's quarter to."
Face rises and within seconds he is just a warm spot left on the couch and an empty spot in a heart.
8/17/89
What if they don't show? What if he is boring? What if he looks like shit? Is everything perfect?
The fireplace is burning. There is a loud crack of wood. Flames dance across the walls. There's a primal glow to the whole room. It is soothing. Open fires bring out primal instincts.
He sits down and hems two pairs of pants while he waits. He hates to sew. He does it well though. He does anything well if it is a one time occurence.
Finished he puts them on, walks out of the room, stands in front of a mirror. Not too bad looking.
He turns on the tube. Depressing fiction from another's mind fuels his own personal fire of insecurity. He sits in the chair and smokes.
It's still later. The doorbell rings. He jumps to attention and answers the door.
Eyes that are bluer than blue greet him. And a smile. The eyes are tired but striking still. 5'11" of gangling youth are in the hall. Perfect face, perfect teeth, perfect eyes are in his doorway. "Enter and sign in please." he says.
Seconds pass and Face enters, He's stretched out on the couch even quicker.
"The fire is nice."
"Are you hungry?"
"Yes."
Stretched on the couch, basking the fire glow, he receives a Pepsi (never Coke) and some chips, always sour cream cheddar.
"Snack on this. I'll make something."
Seering beef smells fill the apartment. Fragrant spices cause salivation.
Slowly he eats his steak. Is our hero pushing it down or really enjoying it? You can tell he is tired. He eats only two thirds. This is not unususal.
He stretches out on the the couch again, Right knee of ripped jeans against the upright cushions, he burrows the back of his head into a pillow.
"Is the TV too loud?"
"No."
Stillness abounds. Serenity is fallen. He goes back to his chair and smokes, watches the show.
"If I nod off, wake me at quarter to."
"Okay."
Regular breathing sounds signal sleep. He smokes and watches, He feels comfortable. It is very satisfying. It is very transient,
"It's quarter to."
Face rises and within seconds he is just a warm spot left on the couch and an empty spot in a heart.
8/17/89
posted by Mack Chill Jet at
9:55 PM
1 Comments:
Nice Post.. Nice Story.
Nice Very Nice.
But It is SAD.
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