The most public display of affection of all is that moment just after a couple is joined in holy matrimony. And yet, more than 50 percent of couples kiss awkwardly at that moment, lips bumping teeth or teeth bumping teeth or lips drier than sand, as if they are afraid to let the world see their affection, or as if they’re practicing for the inevitable moment when they kiss one last time before half the couple walks out the door alone.
Blind drunks
March 12, 2008They stumbled down the stairs so quickly they became like choppy water rather than walkers. At first, she thought one carried a pool cue.
It was only when they crossed the room, still arm and arm, that she realized the pool cue was actually a cane, and the stumbling had as much to do with unfamiliarity of landscape as with the liquid poured into their mouths.
Miracles never crease
March 10, 2008If I could fold this miracle and carry it in my pocket, I would. Light as a dollar bill, it would carry me further—when released from its confines—than a bus token, and would never, ever wrinkle.
But even if they don’t crease, miracles don’t take to holding fast. They prefer to appear and disappear, winking like a quarter dropped in the grass at twilight.
Ice breaker
March 8, 2008It took an hour, but the ice at the end of the driveway finally splintered until there was nothing left but pieces. He stood, sweating, afraid to look at the sky. Behind him, the snow receded from the sidewalk’s edge, exposing forgotten ground. When he walked back toward the house, his boots crunched chunks of the ice, scattered as it fled from beneath the impact of his sledgehammer.
It was so satisfying, he thought, to take action against winter, to slam that metal hammerhead into the fossilized ice again and again. He could almost taste the cold metal on impact.
Inflammation
March 6, 2008Ordinarily she was not so angry. But this night inflamed her, flaring her from embers so chronic she’d stopped noticing their glow.
She could not douse herself, no matter how hard she tried. She could only let the fire rage until it seared away the surface, incinerated the places where he once lit her like tinder.
Bad milk
March 4, 2008On certain days, the milk is just off a little. It sits there, curdled, with cereal floating on it like detritus after a snowstorm.
One could always dip one’s spoon into the bowl and eat, with a side of wincing, what has been provided. But there are other choices. One can also pour out that milk and choose another path. Dry cereal, perhaps. Or a trip to the store for something fresher.
Picking a song
March 2, 2008“I am so drunk, I’m at the point where I can’t pick a song,” said the girl at the jukebox to the man standing next to her.
This was just minutes before her boyfriend smashed a bottle against the bar, converting it into a weapon, and came after that very same man next to her.
Shortly after, they all left the bar, but for entirely different reasons.
100 Proof 