There's Something Tragic about You
Joel
Until he heard the song "From Eden," Joel had never been one to call a significant other cutesy names like "babe" or "love" or "baby." He had also never had a significant other to not call such names. But as Joel walked into a small, forgotten sushi bar in downtown Portland, he heard a male voice singing "Babe, there's something wretched about this," play over the speakers. And then the words "Something so precious about this" danced into his brain as his eyes landed on a woman sitting alone at a table against the wall of the place, and "What a sin" came out of the speakers as he continued to stare. She was wearing what looked like a top and a skirt, but could have been a dress, although Joel could not tell as the table blocked her midsection. What he could tell was her red hair belonged on the lonely pillow which lay on his bed; her freckles, visible even now in the low lighting, deserved to be kissed by his lips; her eyes, which now shone invitingly in his direction, needed to see the beauties he could offer her. A man approached her side and placed his hand on her shoulder. Joel saw the man's hand squeeze her arm, and then saw her smile as she looked up at him. The man sat across from her, on the other side of the table, and only then did Joel notice there were two plates in front of her. A lady came, asked Joel how many for dinner, and after informing her the number, went and sat down alone.
Woman
She sat there, in a cramped, slightly damp sushi place with terrible lighting. The man she was eating with, the man she had been in love with for over two years, argued that the lighting was intentional, that it was not "poor" light but instead "dim" lighting to enhance certain types of moods. She conceded to his face, but inside she held the belief that it was too dark and too damp and too cramped. But again, she loved this man, and this man loved sushi. Work had been hard for him lately—she knew this—so taking him out for his favorite type of food was the least she could do. They had not seen each other in a week before tonight, and they may not see each other again for four or five days, as he had told her on the way over to the restaurant that he was to go on a business trip to Los Angeles. She tried to tell him she had only been there once, and would love to see LA again, but a car cut them off in traffic, and the man grew angry and cursed so loudly that she recused herself until they parked on the side of street in front of the restaurant. After he finished his first roll of sushi and tokkuri of sake, with more to come, the man told the woman he was going to hit the pisser real quick, babe. He grabbed his gray jacket from the back of the chair and walked toward the back. One of the woman's favorite songs began playing in the restaurant, and she almost forgot about the shouting on the way over.
Hunter
Hunter sniffed aggressively while standing in front of the only urinal in the small, one-stall, one-urinal bathroom of some little sushi place in the city where he was born and raised. He sniffed again as he zipped up his pants, and then walked over to the sink. His jacket rested on the counter, mere inches from a wet spot. As he washed his hands, he noticed a bit of white on his philtrum, like snow in a valley. He turned off the faucet, dried his hands, made sure his right index finger was extra dry, then wiped the white off from under his nose. He placed the tip of his finger right up to his nostril and sniffed aggressively once again. The words "Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago" played over the speaker in the bathroom, and he chuckled as he stared into the mirror. Hunter was not sure if he was happy with who he was as a person, but he knew he was happy in this moment. He pulled out his phone and read a message: "Are you excited for LA?" Hunter squinted his eyes, almost thought, and replied, "Excited to see you." He put his phone away, which, of course, was on Do Not Disturb, and, realizing he had been in the bathroom a little too long, grabbed his jacket and went out to finish his meal with a woman he had been seeing for the past two or so years.
Until he heard the song "From Eden," Joel had never been one to call a significant other cutesy names like "babe" or "love" or "baby." He had also never had a significant other to not call such names. But as Joel walked into a small, forgotten sushi bar in downtown Portland, he heard a male voice singing "Babe, there's something wretched about this," play over the speakers. And then the words "Something so precious about this" danced into his brain as his eyes landed on a woman sitting alone at a table against the wall of the place, and "What a sin" came out of the speakers as he continued to stare. She was wearing what looked like a top and a skirt, but could have been a dress, although Joel could not tell as the table blocked her midsection. What he could tell was her red hair belonged on the lonely pillow which lay on his bed; her freckles, visible even now in the low lighting, deserved to be kissed by his lips; her eyes, which now shone invitingly in his direction, needed to see the beauties he could offer her. A man approached her side and placed his hand on her shoulder. Joel saw the man's hand squeeze her arm, and then saw her smile as she looked up at him. The man sat across from her, on the other side of the table, and only then did Joel notice there were two plates in front of her. A lady came, asked Joel how many for dinner, and after informing her the number, went and sat down alone.
Woman
She sat there, in a cramped, slightly damp sushi place with terrible lighting. The man she was eating with, the man she had been in love with for over two years, argued that the lighting was intentional, that it was not "poor" light but instead "dim" lighting to enhance certain types of moods. She conceded to his face, but inside she held the belief that it was too dark and too damp and too cramped. But again, she loved this man, and this man loved sushi. Work had been hard for him lately—she knew this—so taking him out for his favorite type of food was the least she could do. They had not seen each other in a week before tonight, and they may not see each other again for four or five days, as he had told her on the way over to the restaurant that he was to go on a business trip to Los Angeles. She tried to tell him she had only been there once, and would love to see LA again, but a car cut them off in traffic, and the man grew angry and cursed so loudly that she recused herself until they parked on the side of street in front of the restaurant. After he finished his first roll of sushi and tokkuri of sake, with more to come, the man told the woman he was going to hit the pisser real quick, babe. He grabbed his gray jacket from the back of the chair and walked toward the back. One of the woman's favorite songs began playing in the restaurant, and she almost forgot about the shouting on the way over.
Hunter
Hunter sniffed aggressively while standing in front of the only urinal in the small, one-stall, one-urinal bathroom of some little sushi place in the city where he was born and raised. He sniffed again as he zipped up his pants, and then walked over to the sink. His jacket rested on the counter, mere inches from a wet spot. As he washed his hands, he noticed a bit of white on his philtrum, like snow in a valley. He turned off the faucet, dried his hands, made sure his right index finger was extra dry, then wiped the white off from under his nose. He placed the tip of his finger right up to his nostril and sniffed aggressively once again. The words "Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago" played over the speaker in the bathroom, and he chuckled as he stared into the mirror. Hunter was not sure if he was happy with who he was as a person, but he knew he was happy in this moment. He pulled out his phone and read a message: "Are you excited for LA?" Hunter squinted his eyes, almost thought, and replied, "Excited to see you." He put his phone away, which, of course, was on Do Not Disturb, and, realizing he had been in the bathroom a little too long, grabbed his jacket and went out to finish his meal with a woman he had been seeing for the past two or so years.
Comments
Post a Comment