I spoke and he gave me a look, but I don't speak Spanish, so I couldn't read him.

"Little girl, you have no idea what you're doing," was one guess.
"Really? You're trying to talk to me," was another. Truthfully, it was something much more akin to, "You talk way too fast."

A girl gets nervous, you know, about cigarettes and casual sex.

And further more, everyone else around you, too.

I know why the mocking bird laughs at you. Yes, he's pathetic and has nothing better to do, but you're sitting there, an easy target. It's summer, early afternoon and you're behind the house, resting on the wooden platform of the shed your father built to hide the suburban things he didn't want your mother knowing about, namely a motorcycle.

While you sit there, smoking and creating a smell that disturbs the insects beneath you as much it does your neighbors, a squirrel crosses you. It's a stand-off and after several minutes you're over it. Forsaking every Henry-David-Thoreauic thing inside of you, you start kicking your feet against the platform in an effort to make it known that you are done communicating with nature, and that's when nature calls you out on your shit.

At first it's a guttural call of one bird that gets your attention, but then it's followed by the sing-song taunt of another. HaHa!

You are absolutely peculiar to them.

A joke

What did the fish say when it hit the concrete wall?
Dam.

Poor Leslie Cantcatchabreak

Upon arriving at Richard's office, where her patience was about to be tried, she noticed a brook to the side of the parking lot where she had parked her car. A car to her left ticked and settled as if it had been recently parked, but when she had gotten there she was the only one around. How long do cars need before they sound like they're off?

She caught the stream just at the bend and watched on the bank as the free flowing water came toward her, over rocks, over fallen trees and uniformly took a right turn onto the rest of it's path. This being November in Glousanbury, everything surrounding the stream was dead and brown and grey and faded. There was a grouping of leaves and debris that formed a pocket not far from where she stood. Most of the water was able to avoid that pocket, but some got stuck there and some grew stagnant.

"You can't get mad at stagnant water, Richard."

Seemingly annoyed enough to win her fight, she went inside and told Richard's receptionist that she was a little early for her scheduled appointment. And after checking his paperwork, he agreed, early by a week.

Since 1978

In prison they'd call you a snitch. In the mob you'd be a rat, but you are my brother, so you are a dirty rotten tattletale.

Part of something more: The diner; Upstate.

There was a difference in Dean, she thought. He was young, yes, but there was more to him than his age. Having recently spent time with Richard's teenage son, the difference, she thought, was remarkable.

There were times with Richard's son, when they were traveling, when she was reading, that she would look up suddenly and find her gaze locked on his and together they'd remain until she looked away. But there was nothing to it, his eyes were always blank, as if they only needed a direction to look and she happened to be in the frame of reference. With Dean, however, when she was eating, or reading, she'd look up quickly and catch him looking at her and he would look away slightly embarrassed.

"You caught me," it seemed like he would say, but she didn't mean to catch him and so began their story.

We said goodbye, I didn't cry, I didn't die, I learned that I didn't need you.