Tag Archives: reading

Paris Seen in Four Days

“Oh my..” she said from the back of the cluttered vintage store. He tried to see her over stacks of antiquated books but could only see her jet black hair, forehead and bright blue eyes as they widened in excitement.

“What did you find?”

“The perfect travel guide.” Her hand reached over the stacks with a small pamphlet-sized booklet that was probably once a deep red but had, over the decades, faded into a pinkish color. He took the small book carefully and looked at the cover.

“Paris Seen in Four Days” he read aloud. “How old is this?”

“I was too excited to look!” she whispered. Now it was her turn to see his brownish eyes widen.

“Wow the map in here is beautiful. I would feel horrible traipsing around Paris with such a work of art.”

She sighed. “I agree. But it’s so magnificent, we could use it to see the city the way people did back then. Is there a year?”

He paused and with care turned the first few pages. “I don’t see any. But it’s probably almost a hundred years, give or take. How old is the metro?”

“The first was in 1900, but the majority of construction would have been in 1920,” she said with an immediateness that made him smile at her obsession.

“Well then it’s not quite one hundred years old then, it has a metro map.”

She suddenly went from a pair of eyes over the books to just the top of her head, he assumed she’d been standing on her toes.

“I think it would be so magical to roam the streets and metro with something like this rather than a modern travel guide.”

“I dunno…what if half this stuff is gone? Or streets changed names?”

“Meet me around the bookcase,” she said as her head bobbed and disappeared around the corner. He followed her instructions. Her eyes still shone bright when they met up.

“Please?” she said with multiple blinks.

“How can I resist?” he asked her as she did a little cheer and then hugged him.

 

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Out of State Love

The original prints of Out of State Love and many others are for sale now on my Etsy. Please check it out and share it with friends!

Read a Comic in Public Day

He was sitting on the bench on his street reading The Walking Dead when the stranger approached him.

“Hi there. Reading a comic, huh?” she asked.

“Yup.”

“In public?”

“Yeah, that’s the general idea.”

“You know Read a Comic in Public Day was yesterday, right?”

He looked over his copy of The Walking Dead and raised his eyebrows.

“You’re a day late,” she said with a sly smile.

“I worked all day yesterday. A double. And it doesn’t have to be Read a Comic in Public Day to read a comic in public. Maybe I sit here every Sunday and read. Maybe I read novels, literature, classics, and everything else on Sundays. Maybe this week just happens to be a comic.”

“Maybe,” she said with a hint of doubt, “But I doubt it,” she finished as she sat next to him. “Walking Dead, huh? Like zombies?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“True, true. So what did you read sitting here last week? War and Peace? Great Gatsby, perhaps?”

His face turned the slightest hint of red. “The Last Man,” he mumbled.

“Thought so,” she smiled.

She riffled through her bag and pulled out an earlier copy of The Walking Dead.

“Mind if I join you? I worked a double yesterday too.”

“Sure.”

She opened it to page one. “Just don’t tell me what happens. You’re ahead of me.”

He continued to read, but now with a big smile on his face.

Reading “A Coney Island of the Mind”

Created with an old 1958 copy of A Coney Island of the Mind, my own mind and my typewriter.

Heat Wave

“I appreciate you.”

She looked up from the magazine she was reading and raised an eyebrow.

“What? I do,” I said.

“What do you mean?” she asked as she closed her copy of Under the Radar and placed it next to her.

“I was just thinking,” I started, “this is so nice. We’re sitting here together, reading, me on one couch, you on the other, and I’m really…”

“Happy?”

“Yes.”

She smiled and moved over to my couch. “Anything else you’d like to say?”

“Mhmm. I adore you. These simple moments, it’s too hot to cuddle, what with the heat wave, and we can’t really do much, so we’re just sitting here, relaxing, not even really feeling the need to chat.”

“Well, until now. Now you’re talking.”

“True, but now you’re cuddling. And it’s 100+ degrees out.”

“It’s 99.”

“Not if you include the heat index.”

“What does that even mean, the heat index?”

“I love that you always call me out.”

“Hey, you do it too,” she said, sliding even closer and putting her arm around me.

“Dude. It’s too hot to cuddle.”

“It’s too hot to talk, too,” she said as she got up, went back to her couch and returned to her magazine .

Sunglasses and Rubber Boots

I sat on the park bench reading, and she came up and sat next to me. I probably wouldn’t have noticed her if it were not for the rubber boots shooting into my peripheral view as I looked down at the novel.

They were bright blue, but that wasn’t what attracted my attention. I looked up at the shining sun and had to shield my eyes from it, even with my dark sunglasses on. It was a scorcher, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

I looked over at her and smiled, she smiled back, but I couldn’t see her eyes through her dark aviators. She looked to be about twenty, wore a bright white and blue print dress and had nice legs. She had a vintage umbrella propped up against the bench next to her, and a little plaid satchel out of which she pulled a sandwich and an apple.

I tried to focus on my book but could not. Why the rubber boots? It was a perfect day, a bright blue cloudless sky backing up my thoughts as I looked around to see the other people in the park going about their busy lives. Not a single one carried an umbrella or wore boots; as a matter of fact none were prepared for any sort of rain at all.

I wanted to ask her, and was about to when a ringing came from her pocket and she pulled out a cell phone.

“Hello?” she said in a Danish accent, and I decided this was fate, I was not meant to inquire about her footwear. Instead I placed my book back into my messenger bag and went on my way, only to find that five minutes later, a sudden darkened sky opened up and rained down on me and the many other unprepared people on the streets. I pulled into a coffee shop for shelter, and before a minute passed the girl skipped by, dry under her umbrella, her boots protecting her feet from the massive flooding that was taking place, and her sunglasses nowhere to be seen.

Words sunglasses and rubber boots and photograph by Christina  Mølholm of And the Monsters fame.

Come Here (A Flash Fiction Story)

“Have any of your friends ever told you that you could do better?”

She looked up from the book she was reading, shifted her weight on the park bench and looked at him, gave him a half-smile, then looked down at her shoes.

“So they have then.”

“Why?  What does it matter?”

“Curious, I guess.”

She looked him in the eye and then fixed his hair a bit in the front.

“It doesn’t matter.  I like you.”  She smiled her biggest, friendliest smile.

“Like?”

“You know…” she smiled again, a little embarrassed.

“It’s just…” he started.

She gave him a look, waiting, urging him to finish his thought.

“You’re so beautiful, and let’s face it, I’m average on a good day.”

She laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.  You’re just silly.”

He looked at her, a little hurt.

“Oh come on!  I’ve had a crush on you since I read your first short story.  And then the way you were shaking a little when you asked me on that first date…adorable!”

“You said you couldn’t tell!”

A small laugh escaped her, but then hid her mouth behind her hand.  He relaxed a bit.

She playfully shoved him and he shoved her back.  Then she stopped and looked at him, her smile fading.

“Come here.”  She waved him closer to her.

“I’m here.”

“No, HERE!”  He inched a bit closer, and she gave him a look, forcing him to scoot right up alongside of her.

“I like you,” she said, gently resting her head on his shoulder.  She smiled again.

“I think I could do better,” he said with a sly smile on his face.