Two tables away, sitting hunchback over a plastic cup filled with finger-friendly cantaloupe, she yells, “I said no,” into a pink cell phone ringing vigorously.
An icky gray sweatshirt clings to her breasts like a throaty cough. Fuzzy boots cover her feet. Tight corn rows line the top of her head. A cherry red scarf, wrapped around her neck, ties it all together.
“Heading out or just getting back?” I ask, watching her zip and tip a brown suitcase wheel-up.
She sighs. “Honestly, I have absolutely no idea.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Worse.” The suitcase wobbles like a drum roll.
–Samuel Cole
Samuel Cole lives in Woodbury, MN. He loves to run, STEP, photograph bookmarks, hang with friends, boo bad movies, and of course, write. Check out his website: http://www.maneuverableword.com.
