Wednesday Write-In entry for http://cakeshortandsweet.wordpress.com/
Prompts: sore loser :: nothing :: handwriting :: slam :: melody
“So, what’s up, man?” – he asked with his mouth full of celery and what it seemed to look like a ranch dressing. He pointed his question at the man who sat in front of him: young, frustrated, lost and intimidated by his co-workers questions. He took another bite of a celery stick while expecting any sort of an answer, and when none was received he stared with suspicion for a split second at his young co-worker, the glanced at the girl who was sitting right next to that guy, and the following thought crossed his mind: “Something was wrong here, something was going on between these two”. But as any other mediocre person he could not be asked to care. All he could think of was his dinner break and his plate that was bursting with the mixture of seafood, coleslaw, fries and some weird-looking stew, topped with beet salad. It reminded more of a waste bucket rather than a descent dinner plate, but no one at the table seemed to care.
“So, how is it going, man?” – he tried again. A bit more persistent, a bit more suspicious, and he could definitely spot the irritation that his question caused. “I mean, how is it going with your girl, man? Is she coming over soon?”.
“Yeah, man, everything is going good” – his co-worker answered trying to escape the loop of the phrased questions.
“And your girl? Is she done with her university yet, is she coming over soon?” – if anything could hurt more than this empty conversation, it was the silence. Ignorance was crossing the dinning facility like a face slap, door slam, dropped bomb or even worse – like a truth, that was just about to be revealed. If there were some people around who just could not shut their mouths, then he was one of them. It seemed that he could easily observe the situation, but selfish pursuit of the goal that he was obsessed with now : to get the answer, was holding him in a strong grip of curiosity and anticipation.
“So…” – he looked at his co-worker and then at the girl. She was sitting and staring at her plate and stirring the cup of coffee, that was probably already cold. Her bottom lip was nervously shaking, her skin was pale. “Frustration and disappointment” was written in handwriting all over her face. She seemed like a perfect description of these two emotions, like an illustration card or an image: apple is for “A”, butter is for “B” and this girl was for “frustrations and disappointment”.
Moments were passing, clock was ticking and you could hear the melody of sighs, clearing throats, questioning eye brows, weird looks, judging opinions, silver ware and crockery, noises of munching and digesting. This moment seemed to last for a decade, at least.
“Well…” – he pushed his co-worker one more time closer towards the desired answer, obviously demanding a closure of the topic.
“Yeah, she is coming over in a week” – buttons were pressed, rocket ship started and the secret mission failed. The girl stopped stirring the coffee, she gazed for a minute over everyone else until her face lost any remaining color of life. Her lips went pale, her hands went stone cold, her body was numb. No one knew what was going on, only these two. Their lips have touched in a secret kiss and now their lives approached this sweet and unknown definition of “nothing”. Life was playing the hard game, refusing to lay any cards on the table and deciding which one of them will be the sore loser.