Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

quite possibly a very weird conversation

“Well if it isn’t my good friend Mia,” a voice speaks, loud enough to obscure an ongoing conversation.

Simon readjusts himself in a metal chair painted to resemble wood, though the lighting obscured that little detail. The room seems to be a tinge of dark purple, though various spotlights that glowed a shade of orange that could be found on grapefruits hung from the ceilings, above the tables. The table he rested his shoulders on creaks with the motion, slightly nudging the whiskey and gin-and-tonic that were resting atop it. A drop spills onto the cold metal table. Mia sits across from him, her worn canvas bag hanging from the side of he chair. She reaches into it, grabbing a case containing brown, plastic-rimmed spectacles. She puts them on, much to Simon’s surprise. “Wait, you wear glasses?” he asks, “Wait, that question will be answered later– though I must admit you just got ten shades more attractive– you have any idea who just said that?”

“Why do you think I put these on? It’s dark as shit in here and I’m nearsighted.” She clears her throat softly. “It’s why I don’t drive too often.”

The same voice appears out of the ether once more. It is feminine, and increased in volume. “Mia! I’m pretty sure the last time I saw you, you were unconscious.” A figure, most likely the one that carried the voice, approached the table Simon and Mia had been occupying for the past hour. The figure was in fact a she, dressed in black boots and dark jeans, paired with an oddly blue blouse.

“What?” Mia exclaims.

“Never thought you the type,” Simon quipped, to Mia, and Mia alone. “Hi, I’m…” He hesitates. Though facilitated by what euphemisms would call liquid encouragement and what literalists would call alcohol, Simon remained the same uncomfortable self amongst those who he didn’t quite know. He clears his throat. “Hi, I’m Simon.”

“Kat.” She replies, tersely, as if she didn’t quite like the name.

“Unconscious?” Mia loudly interjects, disregarding awkward introductions.

“Well, smoking large amounts of marijuana while blowing bubbles at the same time can do that to a person. You remember that guy named Bubbles, right? I’m pretty sure he was gay. I mean his name was Bubbles.” She pauses for a beat. “I’m kidding! I was talking about soap bubbles! You know! Childhood toy!” A statement accompanied by silence instead of laughter. Kat continues, “Oh, and all of that drinking,” She turns to Simon, “I’ve seen this girl drink bottles of straight up vodka,” Her eyes return to Mia. Kat lowers her voice, with the intent of speaking loud enough to be heard by Mia alone. The efforts weren’t as effective as she believed them to be. “This your latest conquest?” Kat tries to subtly point at Simon, another failed effort. “I guess I’ll leave you two be.” She starts off into the ether once more. “Nice meeting you, Simon.”

“Uh, yeah.”

Mia’s eyes widen as they return to meet with Simon’s. She takes down a large amount of her gin-and-tonic. “I’m sorry about that, it seems my friends are frat boys.”

“Looked like a girl to me.” Simon chuckles, at his own joke. He sips from his neglected glass of whiskey, mirroring Mia.

“Your mind plays tricks on you.” Mia shivers, randomly, her body informing her that the room was a mite cold. She moves a lock of auburn brown hair away from her right eye with her left hand, a detail that didn’t go unnoticed by the ever-observant Simon. “You should probably try and forget everything you just found out about me.” She pauses, “Something I’ve found out about life! That whole sweet-and-innocent to some people and drunken-debaucheress to others dynamic doesn’t really work.”

“You seem to be pulling it off pretty well.” Simon replies, as sincerely as the situation could afford. He finishes his whiskey, the alcohol creating a warm feeling in the middle of his chest. It seemed to alleviate some innate sentiments that were to be discussed in different situations.

“Hah! You’re just blinded by your attraction and love for me, Simon.” She begins to circle the edges of her glass with her right index finger, dragging the tiny black straw floating within the glass along with it.

“I fall in love with every girl I meet, so that kinda makes what you just said kinda irrelevant, Mia.” Simon grabs his glass, and shakes it lightly. The ice within clinks against the glass, a sound reminiscent of bells. “I think you’re ashamed.”

Mia drinks the rest of her gin-and-tonic, and gives Simon a stare before saying with laughed honesty, “Less shame, more regret.”


2 Comments on “quite possibly a very weird conversation”

  1. "Mia" says:

    Here’s to us when we’re older! You got us down pat.

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