Short Story (Written on FB Status Comments, as I Tend to Do)

April 21, 2010

“‘Sir,’ she said with a quiet smile, ‘you’re blushing madly, and I can’t imagine why.’ John Stone did the following in this order: Looked at the ground, smiled, looked at her, shrugged, giggled, darted his glance away, and attempted to say the word ‘thanks’ but only mouthed it, letting out an airy breath drunken with a promise of laughter.”

“Mr. Stone, you see, having seen many streets in the city by way of meandering (less by account of wanderlust and more for homelessness’ sake) had rarely had another soul hold their place on the sidewalk near enough him for some kind of mutual connection to be made, let alone one such chance meeting of himself and a fourtysomething with a smile like a hanging red candle, and just as warm. Naturally the man had little idea of what to exactly do with the newfound opportunity.”

“Her smile began to fade slowly, mostly from a gentle and genuine confusion, though partially out of the striking realization that this man in a wrinkled suit could well be someone her society had warned her of in some form or another. With more curiosity that fear she flurried questions at him. ‘Could I ask your name? Why is your suit so tattered and old?’ Her questions gracefully stumbled into the air.”

“Each query grazed his shoulders and sides, as he tried to catch them in a vain hope of fulfilling one. He felt her slip away, and like those many of us who bristle at how our mouths seem uncontrollable when need be, he could not help but feel as if fate gave him this encounter only to snatch it away. It was not the first time John Stone found fate to be deceiving.”

“Miss Halperin, here, however, had not so cruelly found reality (though the possibility ever remained in her future mind’s eye), and so had overcome her inhibitions and by way of social illusion found herself conversing with a silent talking partner, loading him with question after questions in hopes that soon he would have to sift some out of his head when it had reached its cerebral brim. He, meanwhile, simply nodded and half-smiled (with his best effort to make it in full!), hoping and expecting this nameless slender to keep his company willingly. It was a happy chance, here, that two naive souls in such different means and ways could find each other in such need of the other.”

“Mind you, of course, that this story is no romance. It is entirely understandable, fair reader, that you would assume as much–we, as lovers and those of loves lost, often mistake an eager, warm connection as needing an equally eager and warm kiss to seal the story. But connections, friend, can be more than this, can be something not entirely well put into words… although we can try our best, now can’t we?”

“If Mr. Stone was at a loss as to how to go about speaking his side of the conversation, he became even more at a loss as to how the woman could practically pick up the slack. And yet he didn’t mind so much–her voice wasn’t particularly mellifluous nor melodic, but rather merely memorable for its inherent kindness. Each word seemed to ask permission to be heard, and what in mere text would be construed as bothersome could only be lightly engaging and even addictive to the ear, certainly to one such as Mr. Stone’s which hardly had the chance to connect to his mouth in hope of some cycle of speech. In a way he was stunned by the fact that she was still there.”

(Maybe more later. Don’t really know where I’d go with it, though.)

One Response to “Short Story (Written on FB Status Comments, as I Tend to Do)”

  1. Mira said

    I love Mr. Stone. You remind me of Thomas Hardy, but made of hope.

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