Brenda?

I saw him coming up the walk as I began my descent from the bridge. It was a little past three then, and the crowded bustle to and from class had lessened to a trickle. He was in my direct line of vision; I could see the look of recognition flash across his face. As the distance between us shortened - the space between us clear - I could do nothing short of trudging forward and simply hope he wouldn’t say anything. I was committed to the bridge, he was about to run into me, and I could not relegate him to my periphery. Of course, he would have to say

“Hi Nancy.”

I didn’t want to deal with it. I futilely averted my gaze, rolled my eyes, and turned my head in the opposite direction. The air was still, the sound carried, and he was inches from me then. I could feel the presence of someone a little behind me, not a foot’s width between us. As if to prove a point, to prove that yes-he-did-know-me to this stranger, he called out

“Fine. How come every time I say ‘hi’ you roll your eyes at me?”

But before I could reply, he was past. And I wasn’t about to turn around and respond when I was too lazy to do so in the first place.

So I calmly turned to the stranger beside me and very matter-of-factly said

“Because. He’s a dick.”

0 Comments

RSS feed for comments on this post.