second attempt (more of the same part two)Posted: March 25, 2009
[think of it as a prequel. or alternate scenario. or different people altogether that just happen to have the same name that I use for everything.]
The ethereal buzz of human voices grew in the background. The grind of chairs on hard floors. The slam of fists on tables. The light artificial wind of central air conditioning. Tim and Robin walk toward a heavy glass door encased in dark metal. They are two steps away from each other. Light peeks through the clouds and into the building. The door creaks as it opens, worn by the constant motion. It is humid outside, discouraging all those that insist on wearing jackets during April afternoons. Tim manages to utter an obscenity. Robin does not seem to notice. They find their seats, two wrought iron chairs with chipped black paint which are accustomed to their arrival. The table in front of them had an unused napkin resting atop it. There was a not scribbled on the table itself, carved by an unknown messenger, an unknown time ago. “Je t’aime, S,” it read, made all the more ironic by the fact that they were nowhere near the French riviera. The first time they had found themselves in this situation, Tim pointed the message out.
“It’s romantic shit like this that always gets me, I mean, who wrote this? Why in French? Did ‘S’ ever get this message?” he mused, “I wonder if other ‘S’s found this and thought it was them? Did they wrack their brain for that someone that would write-” Tim’s message was halted by a grunt, a sharp shot of pain sprinting throughout his body.
Robin retracted her foot. “Just wanted to check if you still had, you know, man parts,” she quipped.
The humidity remains unbearable. Tim places a coffee on the table, unnoticed until now. The styrofoam insulates the heat, a drink unsuitable for the weather. They begin to speak, exchanging anecdotes and banalities, laughs and mildly awkward silences. The sun slowly glides across an azure sky, as it had done so every time they sat underneath it. The light, artificial wind found within had transformed into light air currents carrying small amounts of dust. The coffee is half empty. Robin steals sips, low giggles and a beautiful smile interjecting each one.
“I think I love you,” Tim blurts.
Robin slaps him across the face. “What is it with guys not being content with conversation?”