Crumpled dreams - 11

and her page said:

Slow Dance in a No Name Town

A small dark motel with a curving bar
branded by fallen cigarette butts
carved with misshaped hearts
and crazy initials.

Old smoke condensed on window panes
sadly in need of a washing or two
bits of peanut shells ground into
the gaps of the floorboards.

What an unlikely place to fall in love.

The drive had been long

down winding dusty roads

bordered by swaying field on unknown crops

ending at this leaning porch motel which

blared melodies that we knew.

What an unlikely place to fall in love.

Time went on, song after song

the heat descended and the crowd grew dense

thunder rolled in, the doors both front and side were flung open

the songs disappeared amongst the chatter and only now and then

did we catch a familiar word.

What an unlikely place to fall in love.

Sitting alone, getting deep in my chair 

rain splattering on gravel outside

couples seeking refuge 

racing from the peeling picnic tables outside.

Silence.

A voice I recognize starts falteringly

gaining confidence with the encouragement of the crowd.

I turn in my comfortable chair

that's when I found my unlikely love. 

For the rest of The Little Story, read here.

 

Turning Back the Pages of Time - 10

If you’ve ever been in a situation where someone so distantly from your past emerges into your present, you will understand the shock that she felt as she approached Oliver.

Quick as her brain could go, her mind picked up the buried scent of wet, as she reached him. It had been a day of pouring rain when they had sat down over a hot chocolate in the Student Centre all those years ago. He had been wearing a heavy (wet) knit sweater, similar to a style that she had seen recently again on some young people. Everything old is new again.

As he stood, they embraced with the familiarity of a time when your friends were your family as you grew into adulthood. Ironically, they had lived in oblivion of personal pain and family struggles. Only many years later had she heard through the grapevine called Internet that Oliver’s father had died, estranged from his family and a

Reflected in Coffee - 8

She had to stop looking over at them. They would think that she was stalking! But that smile kept drawing her back. Where had she seen it?

Ollie and Merrick adjusted themselves in their seats and started a new conversation. Their hands busy with shelling the peanuts which were forming an abundant mountain between them. Merrick got up and ordered a second coffee for each of them and made his way back between the tables, gripping the cups in each of his large hands.

She doodled in the large notebook that she always carried with her and did her best to be discreet. Her page had a lot of ??? on it.

Then she heard the laugh and her head sprang up. She knew someone who had had that laugh, but that was 35 years ago, on the other side of the country. She hadn’t heard that sound since then. She looked up and mentally erased the lines of time, and added hair (what’s with the toupé, she giggled to herself).

Yes, it must be Oliver.

She looked up and mentally erased the lines of time. (Click to Tweet)

For the rest of The Little Story, read here. 

Ollie (Oliver) - 6

He had a small tick that was exacerbated by fatigue and stress (which ever came first). His badly made toupé askew on the top of his head and though it had the potential of making him look like a crazy person, it did nothing of the sort. No one could look at him without finding him endearing.

Ollie ran down the stairs and dropped his message under Grace's door. He hadn't seen her in days and that threw him off course. He looked forward to Thursday nights, when they often met for coffee, decaffeinated for her, and the usual for him because he'd never been one prone to sleepless nights.

Tonight however, he was going to see his son's new showing at the gallery downtown. He hadn't seen his son since January 1st, and it was time to see what Merrick was up to these days.

No one could look at him without finding him endearing. (Click to Tweet)

For the rest of The Little Story, read here.