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Showing posts from October, 2016

Too Cool

I am looking at him standing at the bar. I had gotten there early and was nearly finished with my first cocktail. I notice he is going bald on the back of his head. His thin brown hair is slick as if he had just taken a shower. He still had his beard, although trimmer than I remembered. Suddenly, I have a flashback to when we were nineteen years old and he surprised me at the record store with a new haircut. A look I was positive had long ago been trademarked by Mr. Clean. He is walking back to our table and I am brought back to the present. I tell him we should go sit outside. He and I are in our thirties now. He is divorced. I am single. We are outside and sitting at a yellow picnic table. I look around to see if I know any faces. I am glad that I do not. He is sitting across from me. I think to myself, 19 21 26. That’s how I young I was when he broke my hearts. He is quiet until he asks me what’s up. I laugh because it’s so unoriginal and we are both nervous. I tell him I was accep…

Gray : a personal essay

The morning after I woke up almost naked. I struggled to open my eyes buried in the disheveled sheets. There was a sea of vomit next to me, falling down the side of the bed. I called him to make sure. “What happened last night?” “You don’t remember?” “No. Did we have sex?” I asked. “Yeah,” he said. And then, “you were pretty out of it.” I hung up the phone. I heard my roommate open the bathroom door. I picked a t-shirt off the floor and put it on. I asked her if he had been here the night before. She looked at me as if I were telling a joke. “I don’t remember anything.” I pointed to the bedroom leftovers. I had been sitting on the couch, drinking my pint of Seagram’s whiskey and chasing it with Diet Coke. I was twenty-one years old. I was alone, and he had reached out earlier letting me know he was in town. We both knew why he would want to come over. I kept on drinking. There was a knock on the door. I let him in. I closed the door and I saw him take off his coat. As I sat back on the couch…

Rosaline

Lila was driving when she got the call. She was driving her black sedan Volvo then, with an interior the color of caramel ice cream. The voice sounded unfamiliar, even though she knew who it was. The girl on the other end of the line seemed distant and unsure of what to say now that there were two voices on the line. “It’s about Rosaline,” she said, slowly. Lila felt her heart beating, faster and harder in an unusual way. She had just seen her. They walked past each other a week ago. No words were exchanged because they hadn’t spoken in almost two years. Lila didn’t take her eyes off the stoplight. “She’s…” “What? What’s wrong?” The light quickly turned green and Lila pushed her foot on the gas pedal to take a right turn. She was going to take a left at the next light. But before she made it to the light, she heard the words. “She’s dead.” Lila felt her weight sink into the car. The rush hour traffic became a blur as she felt her face transform. She still had to make that turn…