STID: An Intermission

“I’m having a thing,” she says as she dismounts and swings the bike around. “A thing?” I haven’t yet mustered the motivation to get off, so I lean back and put a leg against the fence. “Yeah, I dunno. I feel scattered. Unwound.” She’s lifted the bike to chain it to the fence, the front wheel clear off the ground and the frame angled precariously, held in place only by the U of steel she’s struggling to snap closed.

“So,” and I struggle to think of something to say. My mind is preoccupied by the bike. Why chain it like that? What does it prove? Who to? I can’t deal with her when she’s like this.

“You know,” she says as she straightens, flicks the hair from her eyes and presses her tongue against her teeth, the stud there glinting briefly in the afternoon sun, “you’re such a dick sometimes.” She grins at me, but I can tell she’s not joking. Not really.

Posted in Mwah on Monday February 20, 2006.