From a distance, your hands look perfect. Tapered fingers that lead to cuticles of white moons, nails of pearls. A silver ring looping over your middle finger. I listen as you tell me I’m a Reflector with Activist instincts. There’s nodding, apparently it’s true. I’m a known entity and I admire your insights. There’s no clock in the room. We tell the time through conversations ending. Later I observe that it’s fake, the nails are stuck on. I see the glue, the orange streak along your forearm. Your smile is permanent. I wonder what it is that makes you happy.
Posts Tagged ‘reflector’
Posted in Age: 31-40, Gender: Male, Location: Office, tagged city, conversations, creative writing, literature, london, market, printer, reflector, strangers, writing on November 4, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
My mind was elsewhere when you asked me about my default printer. I don’t have the right one. I have the wrong one. I wanted to know why, but you could not explain. Heads turned, also needing an answer. How can something change overnight? We need routine here. A solution would come, you promised. I saw how you described my needs on your clipboard, both names spelt incorrectly and a dash leading to a series of numbers. This is how you represent my needs. I want to throw off my cardigan and the cold air to fall on my skin.