In one sentence is the spark of a story. Ignite.
Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a memory about this sentence. Write something about this sentence.
Be sure to tag #writeworld in your block!
http://writeworld.org/post/128370144785/he-will-always-be-my-almost
“He will always be my almost,” Kathleen said
and sighed.
Her friend, Marie, noticed.
“Almost is a horrible word.”
“Horrible?”
“It is neither one thing nor the
other. It is nothing.” She busied herself stacking the plates on their cafe
table.
“Yes.” Kathleen handed her a side
dish they hadn’t used. “That’s the waiter’s job, you know.”
“I know.” Silence for a moment and
then Marie added, “If you don’t ask him, you will never know.”
Kathleen frowned. “Ask what?”
“Ask whom.”
“David?”
“Is that almost’s name?”
“Yes, and no, I won’t ask.”
“Why not?”
“I just told you.”
Marie waved her hand dismissively.
“No matter. Call him.”
“I don’t have--”
The look Marie gave her stopped
her cold.
“You have his number. You know
where he works and you know his name. You follow his career.”
“I--” she stopped at another
glare.
“Slay the dragon, or fuck him. I
do not care.”
“I think you mixed your metaphors
there--”
“But finish it. Either way. Shift
it from ‘almost’ to ‘never’ or ‘done that’. Don’t forget to tip well.” She
stood, leaned down to kiss Kathleen and strode away.
“She’s right,” Kathleen said to
the bill Marie had left her. “I guess I’m paying for the advice. And the tip.”
She laughed and the waiter who was
clearing the plates glanced at her.
***
She did have David’s details. She
sent him a message; a chatty, I’m-in-town, we should meet up type of thing. He
responded so quickly it made her suspicious.
They agreed to a lunch for the
next day. Lunch felt less like a date than a dinner, and if she did it quickly
she wouldn’t have time to chicken out or drive herself nuts over what to wear.
Lunch was safe, right?
She suggested the cafe she and
Marie had been at; the food was good and it also made it feel more like a safe,
social thing.
***
He was a little bit overweight and
his skin looked florid; she suspected he drank too much. When he ordered a
bottle of wine she knew it.
She had followed his career, but
not his facebook. She wasn’t a stalker.
If she had, she might have learned
that he was mid-divorce. He spent the whole lunch bitching about his ex-wife
and describing incidents that the ex had complained about. The more he told,
the more Kathleen agreed with the ex.
She sat back in her chair, smiled
politely, moved food around her plate and wondered how to escape.
As luck would have it, he got a
call from his divorce lawyer. “She what?” he screeched before putting the phone
against his chest. “I have to go,” he announced, and then left without paying.
She texted Marie. Disastrous
Why? Tell me everything.
He hasn’t changed. He’s still
the selfish boy I had a crush on.
Eww.
Right. Why did I think that
attitude was so great?
So, he’s slain?
Hell, yeah.
No more almosts
Marie was right; she felt better.
The lunch was delicious once she stopped stressing about how awful David was.
As she exited the cafe someone
called out to her. She turned and ran into the waiter. He grabbed her arm as
they almost overbalanced.
“Sorry for manhandling you.”
“I would have fallen otherwise.”
She looked at him expectantly. It was the same waiter as the day before.
“You forgot your wine.” He held
out the bottle with the screw lid replaced.
“Thanks, but I don’t drink alone.”
He grinned at her. “That almost
sounds like an invitation.”
Almost.
Kathleen could hear what Marie
would say. “It does, doesn’t it?” She took a deep breath and went all in. “What
time does your shift finish?”
“Five.”
“You hold the wine hostage and
I’ll be back at five to ransom it. We can drink it together.”
He had the loveliest smile.
“Perfect.”
And it was.
