Even though they’d known each other for almost a year, this was their official First Date.
It was still summer enough that the sun was still over an hour from setting, even though they’d already had dinner and drinks and were making their way through the market district to where the car was parked, playing a game as they went.
Ruth looked up at an apartment window above the Butcher’s, half-obscured by a lace curtain and filled by old Royal Doulton figurines.
“How would you put that apartment in a story?”Ruth asked.
Hugo looked up at the window for a second, considered it, then looked back at her.
“Guy goes by, sees one of those figurines. He’s a bit odd, but has an eidetic memory…That’s means he..”
“I know what an eidetic memory is, thank you,” Ruth said, smiling.
“Sorry…Anyway, he remembers reading about a figurine just like that one,” he said, pointing to the one third from the left. “He remembers that it was very rare and worth a mint….So, he starts thinking about how to get it…Pull a con on the woman? Rob her? Befriend her and then steal it?”
“Wouldn’t that be the con?”
“Maybe,” he said, “ That’s a good point…Anyway, the wheels start turning in his head.”
“Ok…..What about the Jamaican place?” Ruth said, pointing to the dark storefront of “Irie Groceries.”
“Gramma’s making and selling patties with a teenth of crystal in them….You just gotta ask for the ‘Authentic Old Style Kingston Patty’.”
“ Wow, you have a cynical view of things,you know?”
He shook his head.
“The funny thing is I don’t, I just like to imagine the ways that you can generate a mystery, I guess.”
“You write this stuff down?”
“Some,” he said, “Not enough, I guess…Can’t write everything I think of.”
“Ever going to do anything serious with it?”
“The writing?”
He shrugged.
“Probably,” he said,”I mean, I should….right?”
“Yeah, right.”
“ What about you?”
“I dunno,” Ruth said, “ you never know…I might write something cool and get it published or I might just become that boring suburban housewife who writes for an hour while the dishwasher or dryer’s doing its thing.”
“That seems so sad, though.”
“I dunno,” Ruth said, “ there’s kind of a charm to that lifestyle…A certain stereotypical quality to it.”
“Maybe write racy Harlequin Romances or something.”
“Something for other bored housewives to read in between doing the dishes and masturbating.”
The car made a muffled chookchook sound as it unlocked.
Hugo opened her door.
“ Such manners,” Ruth said.
As she went to get into the car, her hand brushed Hugo’s and she paused and looked at him.
Suddenly she was curious what his mouth would feel like against hers.
All she had to do was lean across over the window and kiss him and it’d be done.
Was that too much?, she thought, too ‘ready to move’?
She decided that it wasn’t.
It was still summer enough that the sun was still over an hour from setting, even though they’d already had dinner and drinks and were making their way through the market district to where the car was parked, playing a game as they went.
Ruth looked up at an apartment window above the Butcher’s, half-obscured by a lace curtain and filled by old Royal Doulton figurines.
“How would you put that apartment in a story?”Ruth asked.
Hugo looked up at the window for a second, considered it, then looked back at her.
“Guy goes by, sees one of those figurines. He’s a bit odd, but has an eidetic memory…That’s means he..”
“I know what an eidetic memory is, thank you,” Ruth said, smiling.
“Sorry…Anyway, he remembers reading about a figurine just like that one,” he said, pointing to the one third from the left. “He remembers that it was very rare and worth a mint….So, he starts thinking about how to get it…Pull a con on the woman? Rob her? Befriend her and then steal it?”
“Wouldn’t that be the con?”
“Maybe,” he said, “ That’s a good point…Anyway, the wheels start turning in his head.”
“Ok…..What about the Jamaican place?” Ruth said, pointing to the dark storefront of “Irie Groceries.”
“Gramma’s making and selling patties with a teenth of crystal in them….You just gotta ask for the ‘Authentic Old Style Kingston Patty’.”
“ Wow, you have a cynical view of things,you know?”
He shook his head.
“The funny thing is I don’t, I just like to imagine the ways that you can generate a mystery, I guess.”
“You write this stuff down?”
“Some,” he said, “Not enough, I guess…Can’t write everything I think of.”
“Ever going to do anything serious with it?”
“The writing?”
He shrugged.
“Probably,” he said,”I mean, I should….right?”
“Yeah, right.”
“ What about you?”
“I dunno,” Ruth said, “ you never know…I might write something cool and get it published or I might just become that boring suburban housewife who writes for an hour while the dishwasher or dryer’s doing its thing.”
“That seems so sad, though.”
“I dunno,” Ruth said, “ there’s kind of a charm to that lifestyle…A certain stereotypical quality to it.”
“Maybe write racy Harlequin Romances or something.”
“Something for other bored housewives to read in between doing the dishes and masturbating.”
The car made a muffled chookchook sound as it unlocked.
Hugo opened her door.
“ Such manners,” Ruth said.
As she went to get into the car, her hand brushed Hugo’s and she paused and looked at him.
Suddenly she was curious what his mouth would feel like against hers.
All she had to do was lean across over the window and kiss him and it’d be done.
Was that too much?, she thought, too ‘ready to move’?
She decided that it wasn’t.
