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Apr. 6th, 2007 08:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
benchiladaI did this as a writing exercise a few years ago. A bit of tweaking and I really like it. This was originally a rush job to see if I could do X number of words in Y amount of time.
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I still don’t know why I’m waiting for her. My canvas shoes are sucking up the rain water like little Hoovers and the newspaper over my head is soaked all the way through to the Metro section. I promised I’d meet her here at midnight, but it’s gotta be one by now. Maybe she didn’t want to head out in the rain. Maybe she missed her bus. Maybe she decided to rethink meeting with a convicted arsonist in the middle of the night. Surely all the water would make her feel safe about the last one.
I’m slumped like a hunchback, trying to keep the drops of water on my head and off my cigarette. She always told me she thought smoking was sexy if the right person was doing it.
“A bum can make a cigarette look hot," she'd say, "just like a model can look ugly if she's not doing it right. You’ve got to smoke it like you mean it, but not like you need it. Tease that Lark pack. Make it want you more than you want it.”
She didn’t always make a hell of a lot of sense, but she could kiss days off your life and her brain was so smart it had its own. I never thought I deserved her. She didn’t think so either, but she said she hated people who were smarter than her. There aren't many of those, and she tends to punch any that she finds.
It's wet, I'm cold, and my alcohol-blood level is getting dangerously low. If I head for the nearest glass of port, she's sure to show up right here as soon as I start warming my bar stool. Maybe it's the chance I need to take.
“Don’t turn your back on me, you son of a bitch,” she says as I start walking away.
“Where have you been?”
“Hiding between raindrops. Existing as a quantum possibility. Eating cereal in the middle of the night.”
She grabs me and I kiss her like her lips are trying to escape.
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I still don’t know why I’m waiting for her. My canvas shoes are sucking up the rain water like little Hoovers and the newspaper over my head is soaked all the way through to the Metro section. I promised I’d meet her here at midnight, but it’s gotta be one by now. Maybe she didn’t want to head out in the rain. Maybe she missed her bus. Maybe she decided to rethink meeting with a convicted arsonist in the middle of the night. Surely all the water would make her feel safe about the last one.
I’m slumped like a hunchback, trying to keep the drops of water on my head and off my cigarette. She always told me she thought smoking was sexy if the right person was doing it.
“A bum can make a cigarette look hot," she'd say, "just like a model can look ugly if she's not doing it right. You’ve got to smoke it like you mean it, but not like you need it. Tease that Lark pack. Make it want you more than you want it.”
She didn’t always make a hell of a lot of sense, but she could kiss days off your life and her brain was so smart it had its own. I never thought I deserved her. She didn’t think so either, but she said she hated people who were smarter than her. There aren't many of those, and she tends to punch any that she finds.
It's wet, I'm cold, and my alcohol-blood level is getting dangerously low. If I head for the nearest glass of port, she's sure to show up right here as soon as I start warming my bar stool. Maybe it's the chance I need to take.
“Don’t turn your back on me, you son of a bitch,” she says as I start walking away.
“Where have you been?”
“Hiding between raindrops. Existing as a quantum possibility. Eating cereal in the middle of the night.”
She grabs me and I kiss her like her lips are trying to escape.
