Today's writing

When she leaves, I watch Danny’s mouth. It’s moving. He’s saying something. I make myself pay attention to what it is.

 

“I guess,” he says, then takes another drink. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

 

“I don’t know. Do you want a choice? Do you want a say? This is a flexible plan, you know. We can include you if you like.”

 

Atten-tion! At front! There’s no adequate way to describe the power rush other than addictive. A woman wronged is vindictive – didn’t Aesop say something to that effect? Maybe I’m just making the shit up. It doesn’t matter.

 

I mean, come on, man, sometimes you gotta take the wheel. Life leaves you no choice. It’s calling, screaming, at you. You just need to – as my grandfather used to say – take the shit out of your ears and listen.

 

“Well.” He takes another sip of iced tea, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “I guess I owe you, don’t I?”

 

“Is that you see it? Some sort of obligation?”