By Glenn G. Grigsby
She farts.
He laughs.
“Asshole, you’re not supposed to call attention.”
He laughs harder, cracks the car window.
“Really. I mean, really?”
His laughter subsides: “I mean, it’s funny,” he says.
“You’re stupid. Take me home.”
“No, wait. Let’s just stay here and talk for a while, please?”
“No! Wait… you’re not wearing your hearing-aids?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“I hear you fine.”
He feels something: not in his pants, but in his heart—strange, because emotions typically role off of him like rain on his freshly waxed Kia.
He says: “I like-like you.”
“Oh.”
The sky is lavender, like her hair.
This little snippet of conversation is quite evocative. It makes me want to know what happens nexr. Lavendar sky, lavendar hair. That’s good!
I really fun perspective. Makes for interesting reading Glenn