Category: Telling Stories
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I have no time for spare words. Words that get in the way of other words that tell the story I’m looking for. I am ruthless about getting rid of them. Like sweeping my arm across the table and pushing all of the small pieces to the floor. Take the tablecloth with them. Then you…
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My job is to make sure the driver doesn’t fall asleep. That’s why I’m here, even though I’m very tired, too. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. Watch where his hands are on the wheel. Watch if they’re slipping or shifting. He doesn’t like small talk, so I don’t try. The radio only…
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Some things get better as others get worse. I am better at saying goodbye. When I’m distracted, I mumble it under my breath. Just to be safe. Just in case I never see you again. I am getting better at using names. Sometimes, it’s less intimate than “you” and people always want to hear how…
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I When he hears where I went to school, he insists on pulling up Facebook on his phone. I don’t like this game. “Do you know Chris?” “Matt?” They sound familiar, I tell him politely. It’s not really a lie; everyone knows a Chris and a Matt. This is enough for him. II “You have…
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We’re waiting at (not in, not by) the car. I’m sitting in the back, wilting in the heat. He’s standing outside, eating an ice cream sandwich shaped like a fish, leaning forward so he doesn’t drip on his shirt. Improbably, there is country music on the radio. Something about pina coladas. He’s not listening to…
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I ended up seated across from a reporter. He asks if he can write a profile on me. I try to be vague and gracious in my refusal, but I know I just sound rude. The conversation ends there. He pockets his notebook and pointedly turns away. That’s the last I see of him. ***…
Generation Meh 