101 Words

Raju was fifteen, and in love with Jennifer madam. She had come to help her mother run the orphanage.

He knew she liked him too. He remembered how she had held his hand and cried when five year old Pinky had died of typhoid.

Now, clutching a white rose, oiled hair slicked back and wearing his best shirt, Raju entered her office.

He saw her and smiled.

Then, he saw the young man standing beside her desk.

“This is my husband, Steve.” she explained.

Raju felt the sting of tears. Damn! There was a thorn on the stem and it hurt!

Fear can be described as the image I must endure everyday, the wan visage that stares back at me in disdain and defiance.

When did this horrific transformation occur? The comedic and cliche wage endless battle for dominance on that woe. Self deprecation is either savior or villain—depending on the time of day.

Damn time’s passage.

Life would certainly be more streamlined if vanity were not a ghost appendage of my now defunct glory.

I would love nothing more than to blame life (or lack thereof), blame my relationship, blame eternal ill luck, but I would only be deluding myself.

“I ain’t got no more!” cried Lindsey.

“Well, I reckon I’m callin’ ya a liar!” yelled Randy.

“I ain’t no liar either!”

Soon Granny Mae was out the back door to settle the dispute.

A few scattered cookies lay on the ground beyond the battlefield of the two children.

As Granny hustled the still-arguing younguns through the screen door, she turned to the panting black Doberman still licking her chops.

“Well Lazy, I imagine you’re right pleased about the way this whole thing turned out. I got them little ones to deal with, and you got a belly full of sweets.”

He walks in through swinging doors like it’s the old west at high noon. He feels like checking his heels for spurs but thinks twice because he’s tired of levity and aching for conversation.

Across the bar, one patron sips a beer, the dim light catching on the amber liquid. Her chestnut hair hangs to her shoulders and tiny wrinkles adorn her eyes. Smiling with anticipation, he glides across the room, sliding on his bated breath.

He’s been waiting for so long, it seems the inevitability is just a drink waiting for a refill, so he orders and takes a seat.