Tuesday, March 23, 2010

The Kiss of the Blind

She remembers what he smelled like the day he took her to get coffee. She's never been much of a coffee drinker and couldn't tell anyone the difference between a Colombian or an Ethiopian blend, but she's familiar enough with the smell. Her father had coffee-stained teeth (and now that she thinks of it... cigarette-stained, as well) and the aroma always since reminds her of home.

It was their second date, so to speak. More like a quick meet between classes. He wanted to skip school altogether, but she has always been far too studious for such a concept. Still, she's one to be "a little late," as long as attendance remains a technicality. He was fast convincing her that there were other things to life... things that could withstand a little game of hooky.

There was a thunderstorm like that only the American South can produce and the sun had been all but blocked out from view. Other than the ambiance of luminescence struggling to penetrate gathered cumulonimbi, the only sources of light were electrical. Because of the rain and her date's love of his dog, he took her to his house under the auspices of letting his drenched mutt enjoy the comfort of a living room. She hadn't let on that she thought his dog was a bit ugly, as friendly as it was, but she giddily let it get her a little muddy. This was, of course, the phase in which people hide behind masks, masks only revealed long after one determines that another can be changed.

She listened to him speak about things that interested him, though she hadn't really listened. He was well aware of this, however, and she fully appreciated his attempts at giving her the floor. She hadn't wanted it, she only wanted to listen to the sound of his voice. There was an impression of a singer and, despite no mention of it, she chose to believe the notion. After all, he had a piano tucked away in a corner of a den. Surely he sang while playing a deceptively easy John Lennon tune.

She remembers it all. Even what happened when the power went out. A dangerous moment. A monumental risk. An action executed without thought.

All he remembers is being kissed in the dark.

10 comments:

  1. Women are from Venus; men are from Mars (as they say). One feels the clash of differing agendas here. I bet their memories of what happened the day it rained buckets and the power went out will be very different.

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  2. blame it on the charged electrical particulets in the air.

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  3. an intersting vignette jeff...i could read this a couple different ways...

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  4. I love how this reads like a memory sketch waiting to be filled in. -J

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  5. Hmm, having heard a voice like the one you wrote of here, I can't blame her a bit. Wondering if this is a 10thDoM? Off to see.

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  6. I like this one a lot. Your sparest, most alive.

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  7. This is quite good and can indeed be read a few different ways. It certainly captures differences in perception as well as agenda. Enjoyable, too.

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  8. Nice... This isn't a irrewind or whatever? I feel like I read this one before.

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  9. I step out, and you start recycling... But it's better than your usual drivel about her...

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