A Dialogue

Under the dark, navy sky descended droplets of rain, attenuating the habitual silence we slipped in. It was normal; speech was not ever the strong point between the two of us. However, it has been soon brought to my attention that proficiency was not on my side in regards to initiating anything. Her lips gave way to utterances of great length and breadth, encompassing the heavy, cold air we shared breathing:

"So, how's life then?" she pondered. Her glass eyes gently flared in my direction, along with the bulk of her hair swaying softly along the light coat on her shoulders. It has been difficult to decide whether it was a relief to receive the blessing to speak.

"Like this school, crumbling, hopefully." Instantly I came to grips that the sentence I lugged at her has had as much meaning as the nothing I uttered before. To my surprise, I caught a glimpse of laughter, perhaps of outrage or surprise but for sure of humour and the same disdain we mutually held for the building behind us. "I'll just say, not that great." It felt a true liberation to establish at least a withering stick of coherence.

"Is the situation with them improving?" Her capability to conjure such blind hatred with a few words was astounding. "Dare I ask." she adds up, as I swallow each word like a razor down my throat. Such is no fault of her, though. Malice laid not within her words, but within their accursed subject--people which may only be regarded as good as dead, although far more respect should be paid to the dead. They served themselves and their twisted interest to do all but no harm, as if having taken a Hypocritical Oath instead.

"Dare I ask!" I repeated, slurring the notion of some passive apology being required. "Well, I don't know. Not much happened." There was a short, yet deaf silence for a moment. "I don't know."

"So, no." She replied. Her stare remained largely forward, the mellow contours of her face passively scanning the world ahead.

"I guess so." My best position was to stay out of argument and remain in disdain. Conflict served me no good.

"You know," she began once more in the firm voice under her command. "we have been worrying about you."

"About what?" my incredulity came forward as the spokesman. "There is nought to worry about."

"Well," she begins, swiveling her face towards mine once more in a show of grace, "When you do certain things with them, you don't look like you're particularly enjoying it."

"Of course I don't!" my retort interjected. "What did you expect of me? To smile in a situation of such pique? You would have done the same." I caught up with my breath, once more hearing a distinctive laughter burst from beside me--I had a listener.

"They are such pests!" I continued, with full knowledge of the surrounding street being able to hear my damnation in its fullest. "You hear it from them, the same requests day by day, week by week to do the same thing--they are witnesses to nothing but insanity and foolishness. Their usage of language of the kind only they would employ is a tarnish to all our reputes. Professionals, educators and peers of mine must cope with hearing my name distorted for purposes vile and lacking all necessity; and disrepute is the greatest harbinger of paranoia and the destroyer of future."

"It truly is a shame." Such a voice of powerful faintness sounded as sweet as only it could be, even in melancholy as such.

"Exactly!" I proclaim back at her in victory. "I give them no bother and this is their repayment. All I ever asked for them is peace. As Diogenes said upon Alexander the Great: stay out of my cursèd sunlight!" Once again, a less-than-calm laughter ensued, warming the biting air of winter with the knowledge that perhaps I still hold in my reins the ability to make people happy.

Without delay, our voices turned into silence. The subject burned bright, alas the rain has swiftly dispatched it. Trouble was swiftly evaded, however, as a consequence of bad traffic:

"What in the hell is he doing?" I swiftly pointed out. "90 IQ, a Media Studies diploma and not a goddamn clue how to drive! A steering wheel and a pedal are your only requirements, so why don't you just drive?" I exclaimed amidst her wool-clad laughter, behind the crossing where the dumbfounded, half-asleep dolt barreled forward in his carriage.

The rest fades in memory, as the dim, dark evening and the summary feeling of affection served to cloud my mind and instead share joy, rather than denote long details. 

Reviews

[Stan Lee]

Well this sure is intriguing. I feel like this is part of something much bigger. Though I couldn't quite grip what was going on the dialogue was absolutely fascinating. You built up a lot of curiosity and character in this short piece. Well done.

[Paramagnus]

Thanks a lot.