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Composing a Present Scene9/11/2018 Ten minutes into driving around town, listening and singing our favorite songs, Steve and I finally find parking. It is midnight so our quarter-less selves were in luck. We get out, excited, already anticipating the beauty our favorite spot entails. It is so thoughtless, the way we end up in front of the parking garage. It has become second nature.
We race up the stairs, forgetting, (but quickly remembering), our tar-ridden lungs do not agree with these sort of activities. I jump up on the ledge and instinctively cock my heads towards Steve. I know the struggle he faces with this move. I like to take a mental note of what separates him from I. "That won't always be so hard," I say, smiling at him. "It just freaks me out," he says, embarrassed. I feel bad that he mistook my comment as a jab at his fears. We are 3 stories up, after all. There is another ledge where our feet hang. I feel safer in that sense; I suppose his fears run too deep to let that ease his mind. Cars start to pass by on the street below. They disappear when they are under the ledge, only to pop back out on the other side where the traffic light is. I realize that we have't talked in at most two minutes, so I break the silence, "I feel like I can breathe when I am up here." He smiles and nods his head. "It makes me forget what is going on in my life. I feel so present here." He says, as if he was reading my mind. "Everything just makes more sense up here, " I say, staring at the radio towers in the distance. "The world looks so small, yet so wide. I feel like I can see the rest of it in my mind when I focus on one area, but I look in another direction and it is a constant reminder that I cannot. It feels nice regardless. I like that it's not mine to understand." I feel him keeping up with what I am saying. I know he knows what I mean, through all of the vagueness of my words. We sit in silence again, this time less tense than before. I no longer feel the need to fill the empty space. I feel like the world around us does not include our beings. I feel as though we are very separate from everything that it going on, almost in another plain. "Barnaby's looks packed tonight," Steve says, fixated on a group of twenty-something year-olds. I avert my gaze from the towers to join his observation. I watch them all as they enter the bar and exit my view. I look past Steve, at the cars heading under the ledge. I watch them disappear and then shift my body to watch them reappear at the light. I don't repeat this process.
5 Comments
Sabatino
9/25/2018 10:03:18 am
I look forward to reading more of this story.
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Dylan Bonifazio
10/1/2018 10:25:37 am
the story says "Ten minutes into driving around town, listening and singing our favorite songs, Steve and I finally find parking" i can relate to this because I always try to find the best spot.
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Andrew Moskowitz
10/1/2018 01:15:18 pm
This story was great, the use of your sensory details had me feeling like I was dangling my feet over the edge.
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Troy Bergado
10/1/2018 04:09:53 pm
The atmosphere you set up is vivid, from setting up the environment to the dialogue. And your existential thinking relates to me as well.
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Matt McShane
10/2/2018 04:57:30 am
This was very interesting!
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