Mostly Michael writes about stuff that happens between art shows, but occasionally some fiction comes bubbling up from his subconscious, vignettes inspired by life on the road and life in general. Hey, he can't spend all of his time making drums boxes and peddling them all over the country. Sometimes the self expression takes a different form.
Laney
She was a hair twirler. Index finger and thumb. Sometimes the middle one too. It was one of those absent minded habits. Better than nose picking or knuckle cracking - the kinds of things guys do. But habit, nonetheless. And it caught his attention.
She felt his gaze before she caught it in her eye.
“Are you staring at me?” Her mother had always encouraged her to be direct.
“Well, no, actually. I’m watching you.”
“Watching me what?”
“Twirling your beautiful hair.”
She turned up her nose and looked away dismissively.
“You asked.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Do I call you “Twirly” or do you go by something else?”
The voice in her head said, “Who is this guy? Who does he think he is?”
“I can live with “Twirly.”
“That’s not my name and you know it.”
“Throw me a bone then. What do your friends call you? Got any of those?”
It had been three days since she broke up with Jimmy - well, technically, two and a half and she’d sworn off relationships forever. She’d made an agreement with herself and she wasn’t going to break it just like that.
“Been working on your pickup lines, huh?”
“Sure have. Started with dogs and gerbils. They follow me everywhere I go now.”
She looked around.
“Don’t see any gerbils.”
He furrowed his brow, leaned forward and cupped one corner of his mouth squeezing out a whisper as though it were some sort of state secret.
“Dogs ate em.”
She cocked her head sideways and squinched out a look of fake disbelief, then looked around once again.
“Don’t see any dogs.”
“Close your eyes.”
“Wha…….why?”
“Just do it.” Slowly, she complied.
“ Woof……………………woof.”
She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed with a guy. Thoughts of Jimmy began to percolate up from somewhere inside but were quickly dashed by a question: “Who’s Jimmy?” She opened her eyes. He was smirking. Not smiling. Smirking.
“Okay, it’s Laney. Laney Harper. How about you? You got a name?”