Thursday, January 21, 2016

Microstory 239: Perspective Fourteen

Click here for a list of every perspective.
Perspective Thirteen

I think I’m in love. No, that’s not right; I definitely am in love. My father’s friend comes into his diner all the time, and I get to watch her from afar as I pretend to do my homework. She’s absolutely stunning and perfect. My heart skips every beat when I see her. The way she looks at the menu every single day, even though she always gets the same thing. Country fried steak and eggs with a side of hash browns, and extra browns in place of the short stack of pancakes. And a coffee she takes black, like a badass. What an angel. My friends think I’m idiot for going after an older girl when there are plenty of girls my age who’ll go out with me. But those are all basic bitches. I need a woman who’s been there. I need a woman who has that experience. I need a woman who knows what’s up. Sure, she’s twice my age right now, and I get that she doesn’t have eyes for a fourteen year old, but it won’t be like that forever. Ain’t nobody gonna be complaining when I’m sixty, and she’s seventy-six. She’s just come into the diner like she normally does, but something is different. She’s dressed up more than usual, and she’s wearing a ton of makeup. I’m not into that. A woman is beautiful as she is, in her birthday suit. There must be some reason? Is she into my father? Is she trying to impress him? Gag. No, that can’t be it; she’s being just as dismissively polite to him as she always is. He’s so clueless. I love the guy, but he’s a dummy. I redirect my attention back to her and realize what’s happening. Another woman has just come in and they’re hugging. It’s like they haven’t seen each other for years, and their tight embrace lasts just a second too long. Great, now I actually have some competition. Who is this woman? She can’t give her what I can. I haven’t ever seen her before, so she must not be important. But still, she has to go.

Perspective Fifteen

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