THIS IS A 209 WORD STORY 1.24.17

1.24.17


She and I sat by the window and watched the sun die in a noiseless heat. I was drinking iced tea but all the ice had melted. She was drinking wine.

“So,” I said.

“Shhh,” she said. “I’m thinking.”

“Still?”

“Yes, still.”

So I let her think. She thought while I sat and drank my iced tea and the sun fizzled out and the moon took its place in an indigo sky.

I watched her. She licked her lips as she thought.

At one point it looked like she was going to cry. But she is not that type. She’s cried once in her life, just once, when her father was supposed to die but he didn’t, he recovered, a miracle–and she cried. When he actually died she didn’t cry. She said she’d spent all her tears, not just for him, but for anyone. Her sadness was currency and she was broke.

“Okay,” she said, finally. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“I’ve decided.”

“And?”

“I don’t love you. I can’t. I’m not sure if I ever did, but if I once did I no longer do and will not ever again.”

“Can you love anyone?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “Yes. Maybe.”

“Just not me?”

“No,” she said. “Definitely not you.”


Written at 11:06 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA, while deciding whether or not I should take a shower before bed. 

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