You sit across
me, excitement reflecting
in your eyes—
a sign that
you’re about to
tell us something.
“So there was
that one time,”
you say, but
I cut you
off by asking,
“What date is
it today again?”
I ask the
person to my
left. She responds
and asks me
something in return.
From the corner
of my eyes,
I see your
jaw clench, but
you remain silent
and sink back
into your seat.
Strike one.
I continue to
speak of different
things and notice
you slowly begin
to relax. Something
I say catches
your attention and
you ask me,
“What? You really
drink that? Seriously?”
But I pretend
your words don’t
reach my ears.
My tale resumes
and I notice
you glaring at
the table, frowning.
Strike two.
I shrug, pretending
not to see
you. So I
talk again to
the person on
my left and
she laughs at
all my jokes.
The clocks ticks
and time skips,
and I see
you rise and
say, “It’s time.
We should better
go and start
now.” You leave,
but we don’t
follow you out
immediately. We linger
in the room
for a little
while, enjoying our
conversation. And when
we’ve exhausted ourselves
of speaking, we
decide to go
after you. Just
as we leave,
we see you
coming our way
with a frown
on your face.
“If you’re not
up to doing
it, I’m leaving.”
You announce peevishly
And brush past
us. We watch
you stride off
with bewildered looks.
Strike three.
You’re out.
-Nocturnal Scribe
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© Nocturnal Scribe, 2012
