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Sliced

February 2, 2010

On the page, a boat slices water, and the mind’s eye sees liquid parting. But a slice, in food’s context, indicates something flat, whether it be thick or paper-thin. Bread, cheese, tomato, prosciutto: one reads they were sliced, and sees them arranged on the plate.

The heart, too, requires lingual precision. Spellbound feels differently than charmed, than fascinated, than transfixed. The heart can want, can wish, can demand, but still sees deficiency and responds by not requiring. As my heart tacks in search of its harbor, I’m sorry is not the same as I regret.

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Left unsaid

January 30, 2010

“If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t have shown up,” he said. “I like talking to you.”

She stammered around for a bit.

“Tell me what you want to say,” he said. “You should be honest.”

I may have found a kindred spirit, she thought. I adore how when we talk I discover unexpected combinations of words, I want to kiss you for days, every time you text message me I smile even if it doesn’t say anything, really.

“I like you a lot,” she said. “I want to see where this goes.”

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Where it finally begins

January 28, 2010

In that moment, it felt as if a conversation were continuing, not starting, as if we’d been on opposite sides of the room at a cocktail party and had finally made our way back to each other. Later, I clasped my shirt around me, watching him map the molecular structure of corn syrup in the air, and wondered, Is this where it finally begins?

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Updrafting

January 26, 2010

Several times the next day, I ended up at my window, staring at the raging sky and wishing for calmer weather. Time slipped against itself, sandpaper-rough and grating, and I watched the seagulls dip and soar through the edges of the rainstorm. Jealous of their agenda, I picked the most merciful tasks from my list, and attempted, in my own way, to follow the updrafts of the afternoon.

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Fiery foods

January 24, 2010

His business trip coincided with the Fiery Foods Show, and he returned with three jars of habañero jelly, dried chilies, and a bottle of tongue-singeing hot sauce. “These were my favorites,” he said. We carried the jelly, cream cheese, crackers and beer to the table, where we ate and drank silently, filling our mouths with the first heat in months. I wondered if he’d kiss me later, even if the heat would have dissipated, carried away by the blandness of its accompaniments. I wondered if there were enough fiery foods in the world to start things up again.

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More speed

January 22, 2010

The end of them happened so fast it left her stunned and weaving, like a bird that had just slammed into a pane of glass. The path once seemed so straightforward, and as she crumpled to the floor, she wished for another chance to take a run at it all, as if she could clear her vision the next time around just by picking up a little more speed.

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Minute

January 20, 2010

She had grown used to tapping at the glass with the pads of her fingers, half hoping for a response, half hoping no one would raise the blinds and see her there. Over her shoulder, the moon rose, casting her shadow against the wall of the house.

She leaned her ear against the siding, listening for the heartbeats inside. In a minute, she thought. In just a minute.

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