found a good word lying on the street. a shame what people do to them
hi! so here is it. my shortstory that i was telling you about. i even made it proper with rating, ljcut and everything. please do comment if you read it. i haven't done this i a while so comments are love. and i can't make times new roman go away. *pissed*
Title: Was it Duras or a perhaps a mad Beckett play, you can't remember.
Rating: PG
Summary: “I have to polish his glasses.”
Word Count: 416
slightly inspired by a feist song
Heavy feet walk across a floor. Fixed, decided, whatever the word that pops up in your mind. These feet have a goal. A belief in the person they belong to. But does she believe in herself? Yes, it is a she. A females feet walking straight across a floor in a study somewhere in this world.
“I have to polish his glasses.”
A square that you split up into two triangles. Thud. Thud. Thud. A rhythm. The heel first. Thud. Your feet may cry. It sound like you are hurting yourself. Maybe deliberately, maybe not. It sounds like it though, hurt. Everything coming together. The sound of rain against the windows. The grey and the blue tones mixed as one. The smell of old books and a hint of gun powder. Your hip making circular movements. Like a wheel pushing all about you to move forward. Your breasts heavy and cold.
“I have to polish his glasses.”
Where are they? He might be here any second.
You look out the window, over the park. Is that he?
You are younger. The eyes dark blue without those blacks streams. You are reading something important. But you do not know what it was anymore. The sound of airplanes flying constantly, crossing the sky. Suggesting the continuous will to get out of there. But you are happy where you are. The warm sun flooding over your hair. A humid breath against your lower back. Whispering things you choose to ignore at the moment.
“I have to polish his glasses.”
He won’t stop to bug you.
“I am reading for class you idiot. Stop it!”
“Come here!”
“I am here. You are lying with your head on my bum for god’s sake!” (smiling)
“Your face.”
You roll over. He puts his arms around your hips. Chin down your belly. His beard tickles you. Voices of friends coming up to you but everything stops in his eyes. He is quite short. Dirty sneakers. But mysterious. A bit of a quiet guy except with those who come near him. You are near him. At this moment you are as close as you can get. In this park. With your studies quite ignored and that bus ticket not fixed as it was supposed to.
It is not he. You are back in the room. His glasses covered with spots and dust. You must fix it for him. He might come back now.
Any second.
“Wanna come with me to buy new glasses love?”