I sit in the orange haze by myself with a whisky sour and watch the couples on the floor, no couple the same with each dance. Something catches my eye, trips my mind open: a particular couple. Dances danced before slip into my eyes. I watch those dances, relax into them, and mistake the warmth of the whisky, remembering the slackness, remembering the moisture – “Hi, honey, can I sit with you?” I have forgotten myself again. I turn in my chair, rise, walk away to sit again at a table nearer the bar, reschool my face, redraw my insides. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let a door swing open again.
At Kristy’s by Maude Larke
Filed under Maude Larke
8 responses to “At Kristy’s by Maude Larke”
“trips my mind open…reschool my face, redraw my insides…” Liked these lines. And the ending. Well done! :-)
There’s a history here that is hinted at so subtly that it’s almost a time bomb ready to go off again. Nice.
Oh yes a time bomb – a grave never to be opened again – a door slammed shut on most of life’s experiences. Oh Maude, I love this story, the setting and the length are just perfect.
So much said without actually spelling anything out. Loved it.
Wonderful. Control is a beautiful thing – not. Peace…
Such precision – very deft. Vivid, disturbing, and wonderful. Much like.
“reschool my face” is a really good phrase for what happens here. I feel for her yet can understand her making this choice. well done!
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