Cartoon by: Julianne Abbas
Published by: Hannah Rondaris
Date Published: February 26, 2024
Time Published: 6:50 AM
Category: Prose
Theme: Friendship in unlikely places and situation
“May I sit here?” came a voice outside of his imagination. Elijah looked up, his face flushed in embarrassment. If he was asleep, he was sure this was a nightmare. The rich voice came from no one but the man from yesterday. The man with baggy eyes and black clothing yet the perfect rendition of the character he wrote in pen.
“Oh, yeah, sure,” he said without wasting another second in his eyes.
The man sat in front of him. No longer tables, chairs, or spaces apart. Their shoes would touch if Elijah dared untangle his. It was tempting, although he kept it in. He did not put a label on his desires for the man, although, there was something to be said about the mysterious. Perhaps that was why he wrote this pianist of his from the start.
“Raspberry?” asked the man. Elijah looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You were the one who ordered raspberries yesterday, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Elijah’s frustration victimized his sleeves. “I’m… Yes, hi.”
He did not like conversation. He did not like confronting what was the object of his mind for hours without end either. The man nodded as if understanding his babble. “I’m Lucas.”
“Elijah.”
The one-word response hurt him more than it must’ve done with Lucas. He only hummed as he rested his arms on the table. “I noticed yesterday you brought suitcases. May I ask where you're from?”
There should have been alarms setting off in Elijah's head. Though, it overlapped with the anxious blasting. He said, too trusting, “New Orleans, I, uh, wanted to get a story published.”
“Did it go well?” His voice sounded too nice to be a serial killer or a stalker.
Elijah laughed, shaking his head. “No… I got a little bit of a compliment, but that was it.”
Lucas nodded. He leaned forward with his arms as his support. With a tilt of a head, he asked, “Are you writing right now? If it’s not rude, I want to ask what you’re writing.”
"I write horror, really." His eyes fell to his notes. His hand that covered it moved away. “Do you… want to read it?" He blinked and an awkward moment passed, "You don’t have to, I’m sorry.”
“No, actually, I was the one to ask,” said Lucas. “I’m happy you don’t mind.”
With a heavy heart and a heavier notebook, his hands pushed the paper to Lucas’s direction. Almost immediately, the man read:
𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘌𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘥. 𝘐𝘵 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧,
Lucas smiled, genuine and opposite of the publishers he wanted to sell to yesterday. “Horror, right? I don’t think that’s everyone’s first choice but it only makes you unique.” He blinked, his eyes on the notes, “but… you stopped writing there.”
Elijah raised an eyebrow as he looked at where Lucas’s finger pointed. At the last word of the last sentence, he asked, “Yeah, I stopped.”
“The sentence seems… finished, and yet you didn’t use a period. What comes after the comma?”
It was a typo, really. However, something about that made him look at Lucas. He, who stared back, awaited his answer. He wondered too, what comes after today. If they were to meet tomorrow they would be the best of strangers.
“Something always comes after a comma, right?” he said. “I think it means there’s something more.”
“Something we don't know?” Lucas asked.
Elijah nodded. “Yes. For now, at least."
No comments:
Post a Comment