i (i) wrote,
i
i

  • Mood:
  • Music:

a story by a talented friend of mine

The Service
A story by Igor Sapien

"The service here is great! I love this place. They're not missing a
beat."

"I haven't been here in years. It's still the same, never forgot the food.
The stuff that makes you feel good."

Maggie fiddled with her food and shuffled her feet. She absently twirled a
finger through her hair. She was shy and she was always a little unsure of
herself, but tonight - right now - she felt wonderful. She felt good about
herself. She felt .... good enough.

John liked Maggie very much. He looked over the table and watched her smile.
He studied her features, absorbing and enjoying her beauty. His heart
tingled and swirled and swayed as flocks of butterflies circled around it.

They were both people accustomed to loneliness, to quite a few long moments
alone and tonight they were high. Tonight they were together and they were
not alone. He swallowed a silent giggle of joy and noticed that she did
too.

Maggie and John skipped dessert and went for a long drive. She let him pick
the music and then he let her choose something else. They talked about
everything in and around the sun. He told her about his family heritage and
some of their interesting idiosyncrasies and she laughed through some of her
more beautiful memories and uncovered a few of the tragedies that shaped her
life.

They looked up at the moon together for a long, quiet moment. Each feeling
the heartbeat of the other and for a brief moment they synched. He cracked a
smile and turned to look at her. She was already looking at him and her
eyes glittered and the radio cut to a higher volume with one of those
commercials designed for impulsive idiots that leaves you feeling insulted.

They both laughed at it and looked away and laughed a little quieter and
turned to look at each other again at exactly the same moment and laughed
kind of medium that time and looked away for a while longer. He coughed.

She moaned a long sigh of contentment and she noticed that she was happy and
felt pretty good and she said okay, I'm done. She said, "Thank you Johny,
can you take me home now?" Both of his feet stepped on the same spot at the
same time and he tripped kind of north easterly forwardly downwards and
caught himself. He took one last long look at the moon himself and started
the car, shifted into reverse he did and the car too.

They were going to see each other again. In a day or two. Or maybe next
week. And he thought about her all the next day and she called him. Just
for a drink that turned into another three or four hours of the kind of
talking that brings your soul alive again. Maybe those dreams weren't too
big, maybe we could still be gigantic. And it was a beautiful time for both
of them.

He woke up and looked in the mirror and went to work. She turned left at
the light and went straight on. She called him two weeks later saying, "Hey
thanks. You know, I really want to thank you. I was kinda like down in the
dumps you know, and you really lifted me up. You reminded me of who I am
and what I can do. I really want to thank you. You know, I was feeling so
good about myself that I met this guy - my god, you should see him, he's so
beautiful - anyways, we're like having a barbecue or something down at the
beach and wanted to know if you wanted to come along and hang out?"

"No," he said, "I'm probably going to be busy or something but, hey, thanks
anyways."
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Comments allowed for friends only

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 3 comments