Friday, April 27, 2007

A different sort of vignette.
Current mood: amused
Category: Writing and Poetry

She calls on my direct line. Five people have that number and three of them are in the building. She says, Is your car out front? I say, What? She says, I’m in front of your office.

The wind is gusting and it’s hot. The ground is throwing heat at least as high as my head.

She leans on the opposite side of a black sedan facing away smoking a Camel Light.

I approach with my hands in my pockets while I stare at the ground.

She looks at me from a vacuum.

I do my best version of the same but realize there’s a smirk on my face.

What? I say.

Her eyes roll up as she exhales a cloud.

I light one.

She reaches into the backseat with her left hand. It’s a convertible. I realize she’s rehearsed this moment.

It’s a nickel plated Smith & Wesson and I’m on my back screaming but nothing is coming out and I smell cordite.

It’s an envelope and she begins to smirk as she hands it to me. Hungry? she says.

I say, I guess, you got time? Let me put this on my desk.

I drop my smoke in the 5 gallon bucket of sand outside the door.

I turn and it’s so cool inside it feels slush blue.

The heat is a wall on the way back out. Grab my smoke. She is leaning against the near door now, hands at her sides. She’s looking down and talking to herself. In her left hand the 357 dangles loosely as she bangs it against her thigh.

She looks up and says, Can’t remember if I fed the dog. You wanna drive?

She holds up the keys with her left hand.

I keep walking towards her.

I say, Nope, it’s all you. She doesn’t care and I know that.

As we’re pulling away, I think for the thousandth time about how unsatisfying it is to smoke in the wind.