Kitaab

Story from 131017

writing story 1970-01-01 00:00

%date 131017 00:00

Three strangers meet at diner. It's picturesque if you think about it like that. In truth, we were three lonely ▞▔▘▙▐▜▚ with no where better to go at three in the fucking morning. We sat done, each of us with our own coffee's, seperate tables and little way to pass the time. I brought crossword puzzle. A god damned cross word puzzle. I could've lived with sudoku, but instead I brought a cross word puzzle. I remember the way I moved my fingers, slowly, almost ostentatiously so, as though they were incapable of more movement. Other than myself, there was that drunk, whose name I don't quite remember, probably because it was french, yet he had a very distinct face. You took one look at him and you knew he was rich, but that wasn't what stood out. It was as though you could sense his personality flowing through his face. None of his features felt out of place in the way that normally makes ▞▔▘▙▐▜▚ distinct but more of sum of it's parts. He radiated something that cannot be articulated. The woman who happened to make up our lovely group of trigger happy musketeers was quite clearly from a more "well off" family. She wore her heart on a necklace, one that she liked to show off, especially to strangers. She'd sit her bum and work on her phone because she seemed to be able to condense the complexity of the world into palm of her hand, and never thought twice about it. Our rather unremarkable group simply existed in each others presence for what now seems like an insignificant amount of time, and the uncommunicative nature of silence left me wanting more from our etheral relationship.