Weeknights, Idling, Candlelight
by Samuel Brase
Weeknights
I find that I am keeping silent more often.
I don't like repeating myself.
The danger for doing so is greater after three years.
So now we watch late night television in silence.
Except when I ask if she wants a cigarette.
Idling
The crooked rearview announces the traffic piling up.
I can't stop fidgeting in the driver's seat.
Kelly studies the gas station to the right, waiting for my answer.
Candlelight
I suspect this is the last dinner we'll ever have together.
Kelly orders lasagna and a beer.
I get alfredo with white wine.
She frowns at my choice and I frown at hers.
We split the bill.
I find that I am keeping silent more often.
I don't like repeating myself.
The danger for doing so is greater after three years.
So now we watch late night television in silence.
Except when I ask if she wants a cigarette.
Idling
The crooked rearview announces the traffic piling up.
I can't stop fidgeting in the driver's seat.
Kelly studies the gas station to the right, waiting for my answer.
Candlelight
I suspect this is the last dinner we'll ever have together.
Kelly orders lasagna and a beer.
I get alfredo with white wine.
She frowns at my choice and I frown at hers.
We split the bill.
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Author's Note
Mr Erlewine was helping me develop this story for elimae, which was eventually accepted at Foundling Review -- http://www.foundlingreview.com/June2009Issue5Brase.html.
This is also the shortest thing I've ever written in my entire life.
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The only person who calls me that is my PO. I really like how this story turned out, man. Nice job.
This is strong and an excellent use of minimalism to create the punch.