Play Nice

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[This is where the summary would go if I'd bothered to write one.]

« Shopaholic & SisterWeek 140 »
Writober 05: Run Ins

She told me in the bread aisle. Car accident, she said, celebrating a good day in court. Ironic, one could say. Dying in a car accident the day a judge lets you off with a hand slap for driving recklessly. A spoon when all you need is a knife. Exactly that.

I stopped in front of the rotisserie chicken and thought about all of the times I’d meant to visit, to get up the courage to call. All the childish moments in junior high spent wishing that, like a scene out of a teen romance, he’d turn to me, overlook the frizzy hair, the pimples, the extra pounds, and tell me he liked, no, loved me.

She’s wrong, I thought as I walked away. It must be someone else.


I see his brother across the quad. “Excuse me,” I imagine myself saying. “You probably don’t remember me, but I was a friend of your brother. Is it true?” But no. I stand still as I watch the young man walk towards me, then past me.


Economics at 7:30 in the morning is stupid for so many reasons that they’re not even worth listing. Supply and demand. Invisible hand. 300 students who collectively didn’t have a single working brain cell. “We’ll cover chapter 7 next week. The next exam is in two weeks,” the professor called out from the stage. I gathered my books and shoved them in my bag, head down, thinking about nothing but getting back into bed.

I let the bodies around me lead me to theater doors where I bump into someone. “I’m sorry,” I murmurred, finally looking up.

His eyes met mine and I knew.

She hadn’t been wrong.

There, in the bread aisle. She didn’t make a mistake after all.

Published 10/07/05 in Writing • Writober • | Views: 2035 times | Print

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