Drop #21: Broken

Jen and I were waiting to cross at the cross walk. We’d just had dinner. A grown man in a shiny silver jumpsuit and flashing bunny ears waited on a child’s bike on the other side. I was still trying to decide whether he was at all interesting, or just an utter idiot when I said: ‘What an idiot.’

‘Didn’t we just talk about being less judgmental?’ Jen said, without turning to face me.

‘Yeah.’

‘You know: you say all this stuff and you never do it and it makes me wonder about you sometimes. It makes me wonder about us.’

I wondered about us too, often. Every dinner out lately had been so unpleasant, so silently tense, and we ate out all the time. And I knew I said a lot I didn’t do, but maybe, I thought, I never really planned to do any of these things. Maybe I was just patching up the visible cracks with these statements, smoothing over the many, if unimportant conflicts between us.

In our two years together we’d stockpiled simple bothers, but there had been no dense ugly thing to deal with; no injury or sickness, or financial collapse; nothing keen enough to pound on fractures and break structures down.

But what if a real problem arose? How much of that ‘us’ would be exposed?

The light changed urging everything to proceed. I took a step out into the cross walk before Jen followed. Ahead of the pedestrians, the fool on the bike had started peddling out too, wobbling into balance. I watched as a car ran the light and hit him. He looked broken when he landed, his shiny silver jumpsuit blotched with blood.

By E.M. Vireo

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About EM Vireo
flooding the world with fiction

One Response to Drop #21: Broken

  1. eeektwitter says:

    It’s clever.
    But it’s a bit like stating the obvious, the analogy – the “us” takes a little side attraction to break.
    The question stuck in the head is – so what, or then what…

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