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small love (settling)
simonvii Posted: Wed Aug 17 13:19:27 2005 Post | Quote in Reply  
  Everybody’s just lonely is all, he thought, and he just went on staring staring staring at the wall. He brought the bottle to his lips and took a swallow. The beer was light and cool and shallow and sharp on his tongue. Somebody was playing darts on the far wall behind him. I need a big love, he thought, that’s in a song somewhere, I think…I think. He tapped the bottom of his beer lightly on the tabletop a few times with his right hand and played with the cap in his left. He should’ve been home a long time ago.
Maybe I just read too much. Maybe that’s why I feel so much different from everybody else. The waitress came over from the bar and asked if he wanted another. He peered down at the inch or so of liquid still left in the bottle and nodded, “Just the same,” he said, and started teetering the bottle on the table. She left to go back to the bar and disappeared in the mist of neon at the corner of his eye. She’s beautiful, he thought, “but at this point they always are.”
He gulped down the last of his beer and set the empty bottle down on the edge of the table, cap placed loosely on top. He rubbed his eyes to take away the fog and sleepiness that comes from too much quiet when drinking. As if on cue a lonely country song came twanging up from the jukebox and somewhere somebody broke a game of pool. He looked around the half-empty bar.
Aside from himself, the only ones actually sitting at any of the tables were an older, lonelier-looking drunk and a guy in a business suit, quite tipsy and loud, accompanied by a dirtier, weather faced woman in drag. He was all grins and whiskey, and she coddled him and fondled him and rubbed him around until he dropped a twenty on the table and they went out arm and arm. At the bar there were two who appeared to be a cook and a dishwasher. One unshaven, greasy and heavyset, and the other maybe college-age, with shaggy, speckle-blonde hair and white teeth. A little too white. Then, of course, there were the guys playing pool with their women, and a few people playing darts. The women stumbled with their drinks trying to dance around the pool table, and their men cursed and shook their heads at each other. Things would be winding down soon.
“There you go, Sir.” The waitress returned, opening another beer and placing it lightly in front of him. “You want this again?” She rolled the cap in her right hand, held it up and smiled. “No,’ he said, ‘that’s fine, you can take it this time. Thanks though.” He smiled sheepishly and looked down at the table, both hands set around the cold wetness of the fresh bottle. “Suit yourself,’ she said teasingly, and winked, ‘I’ll put it on your tab.”
He took a swallow and reclined, stretching himself and glancing at his watch. He had time. After all, if he was this late what harm could another twenty minutes do? He leaned forward again and closed one eye, cocking his head to one side and looking down in through the neck of the bottle. He thought of that scene in Poltergeist where the lead guy drank all that liquor, worm and all, and puked up that skeleton thing. Or maybe it was Poltergeist II. He shook his head. She’s gonna be upset, he thought, this is terrible to do to her, to keep her waiting up like this.
He had a girl, but he didn’t love her, and he knew it. “She knows it too,’ he said to himself, ‘she knows it better than I do.” He took a long, slow draft from his beer and slapped the near-empty bottle back down on the table.
“Everybody’s just lonely is all,” he said to himself, and as he got up he knew there would never be anything big about this love at all.

sweet p Posted: Wed Aug 17 17:55:34 2005 Post | Quote in Reply  
  While I was reading, this popped into my head and now it won't go away:

Every kind of love
Or at least my kind of love
Must be an imaginary love to start with...

This made me sad.

Posted: Wed Aug 17 22:01:34 2005 Post | Quote in Reply  
  "My love must be some kind of blind love
I can't see anyone but youuuuu"
-Flamingos - I Only Have Eyes For You

CorDrine Posted: Fri Aug 19 10:48:54 2005 Post | Quote in Reply  
  Sweet P said:
>Every kind of love
>Or at least my kind of love
>Must be an imaginary love to start with...
>This made me sad.

why should it make you sad? Just think of it as an chance to turn imagination into reality! That's the best part of it eh? And when it does turn real, then you'll start believing in the make believe :)

Its those little miracle in life that keeps us going :)


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