(no subject)
My hair is pink, red and black
Today, I went into the bank to withdraw enough money to pay my ER bill from my scooter wreck. There was a man in line with me. He looked around 50. with glassy blue eyes and a mouth that opened and closed like a fish. His arms were floating up from his body, like he was wearing too many coats although he was dressed in a faded flannel. His eyes regained their focus as he saw me.
"Is that your natural haircolor?"he asked, rather loudly.
"yes" i smiled.
He scuttled closer to me, as if to tell me a secret.
"Is that really your natural color?"
His mouth trembled, lips opening, shutting, breath coming in quick gasps.
"no," i said "i'm very naturally blond"
The answer seemed to trigger some memory, to shock him as if he was remembering a piece of himself he had lost long ago. He stepped back quickly, and grabbed the counter for support then caught my eyes with fierce intention.
"My boy had hair so blond it was almost withe" his voice softened as the memory held him. "so blond it was white" he repeated. He stepped closer and hissed, eyes never leaving mine
"and then he hung himself and broke my damned heart" his voice cracked and he backed away as if i struck him. I didn't know what to say, my heart had buried all speech. My mouth was open though no sound was coming out. The room shrunk around this wounded man who gasped, this man whose burning blurry gaze never left mine. He opened his mouth, and the moment passed. He seemed to forget the emotion of what he had just said, the memory that dug it's claws into him, of his son with white hair swinging from the ceiling.
"my dear wife, my little wife saved my life last week. I had a brain hemorage, stopped breathing and everything. But my little wife, she did mouth to mouth and i opened my eyes and breathed and gosh, i was happy to be alive"
he nodded, confirming his statement, agreeing with himself.
"my little wife saved me"
he stepped closer. "you grow up here?"
"no, i grew up in salt lake"
He smiled "well, gosh! isn't that something! That's where i'm from"
he grasped my arm and drew me closer.
"do you like hot rods?"
my mind was spinning, all the emotions like insects, making it hard to hear. "what?"
"do you like hot rods?"
Today, I went into the bank to withdraw enough money to pay my ER bill from my scooter wreck. There was a man in line with me. He looked around 50. with glassy blue eyes and a mouth that opened and closed like a fish. His arms were floating up from his body, like he was wearing too many coats although he was dressed in a faded flannel. His eyes regained their focus as he saw me.
"Is that your natural haircolor?"he asked, rather loudly.
"yes" i smiled.
He scuttled closer to me, as if to tell me a secret.
"Is that really your natural color?"
His mouth trembled, lips opening, shutting, breath coming in quick gasps.
"no," i said "i'm very naturally blond"
The answer seemed to trigger some memory, to shock him as if he was remembering a piece of himself he had lost long ago. He stepped back quickly, and grabbed the counter for support then caught my eyes with fierce intention.
"My boy had hair so blond it was almost withe" his voice softened as the memory held him. "so blond it was white" he repeated. He stepped closer and hissed, eyes never leaving mine
"and then he hung himself and broke my damned heart" his voice cracked and he backed away as if i struck him. I didn't know what to say, my heart had buried all speech. My mouth was open though no sound was coming out. The room shrunk around this wounded man who gasped, this man whose burning blurry gaze never left mine. He opened his mouth, and the moment passed. He seemed to forget the emotion of what he had just said, the memory that dug it's claws into him, of his son with white hair swinging from the ceiling.
"my dear wife, my little wife saved my life last week. I had a brain hemorage, stopped breathing and everything. But my little wife, she did mouth to mouth and i opened my eyes and breathed and gosh, i was happy to be alive"
he nodded, confirming his statement, agreeing with himself.
"my little wife saved me"
he stepped closer. "you grow up here?"
"no, i grew up in salt lake"
He smiled "well, gosh! isn't that something! That's where i'm from"
he grasped my arm and drew me closer.
"do you like hot rods?"
my mind was spinning, all the emotions like insects, making it hard to hear. "what?"
"do you like hot rods?"