What binds us.

It should go to say that with the little interesting things I do with my life, I really should blog about events I do go to in great detail. Such as last Friday, where I went to a reading that supported a local food shelter.


I could talk about how the first writer, who talked about his coaching experience in Ireland, wrote uncannily similar to me, with lots of dialogue and bits of humor. Even J noted that during the intermission that I should pick up his book on account of that. I should also write more about how I was primed for the second reader in my short story class and that even though her story leaned much more toward the humorous, I should explain why her voice broke in tears at the end.

But I won’t. I get stuck in other details.

Two rows up from me sat a girl who I’ve noticed during my undergraduate semesters and who I’ve seen more now that I just frequent the English building. I believe we may have shared a class once even though I cannot recall what it was now. I’m not sure why she used to catch my eye, but her manner of walking always seemed stilted and she had a backpack that would roll behind her as she herself strode demurely through the halls.

Before the reading, I watched her come in about ten minutes to the beginning with a large Hispanic man. She was wearing a low-cut, front and back, black evening gown and when she came in she waved to other girls in the crowd.

She sat and I kept scanning the crowd. My eyes then touched back toward her. As her ponytail swung to talk to either person to the side of her, a small, white line on her back came to view. I gripped my seat and observed how small and straight her line was, unlike my pronounced serpentine groove. She also had small nubs along the side, from the stitches. A trait we shared. 

I nodded to her for J, “That’s what I would have looked like if I hadn’t had it cut twice.”
He nodded in return.
I was silent for a minute, “You know, it should be like it was in elementary school. I just want to yank on her ponytail and show her my scar and tell her we should be friends.”
J leaned back, “Why don’t you?”

If it only were that easy.


One Response to What binds us.

  1. J says:

    Serpentine like a snake. I like snakes.

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