Since the divorce had gone final, the matter settled once and for all, he'd taken to a masochistic bingo of sorts. He wanted to digest it wholly, move it on, much as he'd down psyllium caps to pass a prosciutto, mortadella, and fried eggplant sub taken on in a weak moment. He emptied a thin, stainless steel canister and placed scribbled notes inside, a dozen of the sweetest memories he carried of their long, but in the end wilting romance. Every two weeks he'd pull out another scrap, like teasing noodles out of a steaming hot pot.
That's how he found himself in the skinny blocks north of Columbia, frantically pacing upper Broadway for the little place they used to trundle off to in the late light on frosty winter days for fresh baked cookies, bags of still warm granola, and tangerine sodas.
“Well! Where the fuck is it?” he said to himself, enough times now that he was saying it out loud and loudly, too.
It was frosty cold, just as he remembered. In his left coat pocket, he tumbled the ring she'd given back until his hand grew damp with sweat. Ring wasn't worth much. He heard it again. His fingers worked the jagged crown of the small stone and the smooth round band as he crisscrossed Broadway to Riverside Drive and back again under the elevated tracks.
The play of the cars, the overhead train, his zigging and zagging from one side to the other, scanning up and down the sentry blocks grown unfamiliar, left him dizzy and unsteady. Then, a corner spot where the black steel stairs descended from the platform gave him promise. He picked up a waft of garlic and tensed his grip, turning the corner, reaching out to look inside the steamed up window.
"Since the divorce had gone final" is a fantastic opener--like milk gone bad, someone gone crazy. And I love the first sentence of the final paragraph--it moves like a bad marriage and makes me worry about the promise of those "black steel stairs."
This is fine work, Doug. "The play of the cars, the overhead train, his zigging and zagging from one side to the other, scanning up and down the sentry blocks grown unfamiliar, left him dizzy and unsteady." Effective writing and form. Good piece.
Like this!
Great story, Doug - I really enjoyed this little piece.
thanks for reading and comments!
... dizzy and unsteady - lovely line. Great little piece.
Really well done, Doug. Compact and solid, and we get the moment perfectly. Felt like a hell of a lot more than 300 words.
I love all the images packed into this small space -- the two that linger for me are the scraps of paper in the tin (near the beginning) and him peering into the steamed window (at the end). The story is simultaneously real and murky, hard and soft all at once.
thank you Martha, Derek and Michelle! appreciate the enthusiasm for what it delivers in a small package
There may not be a better title for a story about divorce than Sweet and Sour. Love that steamed window, and the whole thing brings back fond memories of the Upper West Side. Nice one!
Wonderfully well done, Doug. I love the scents and the movement of the piece. Even as the character clings to the still images of the past, he's moving on.
thanks Bonnie...this is one where the title came easy
appreciate you reading Susan...I can't wait for when Fictionaut enables the Smell-a-Vision application...will really help spice this one up :)
There's an electric, manic, brooding energy here that I enjoyed Doug.
Doug, I read this a while back and I am sure that I commented, but I don't see my comment here! Do comments disappear?
I so liked the sensory elements to this story of divorce... the desire to revisit every thought, every place, every shared meal, to torture oneself and to move on. The ending is so wonderful.
Doug, I read this a while back and I am sure that I commented, but I don't see my comment here! Do comments disappear?
I so liked the sensory elements to this story of divorce... the desire to revisit every thought, every place, every shared meal, to torture oneself and to move on. The ending is so wonderful.
Love the excruciatingly precise details here. [e.g. "a prosciutto, mortadella, and fried eggplant sub"]
One phrase is over explained:
"...their long, but in the end wilting romance."
Change to "their long romance." The wilting is clear from rest of the story.
"masochistic bingo"--great!
"He picked up a waft of garlic"
vs.
"he smelled a waft of garlic"
Great title for as good piece.
I'm a little late to the party, but I really like this one, Doug.