| TIM is the editor of Insolent Rudder. Being bitten by the writing bug at an early age, he has recently turned his attention to flash fiction writing, simply because it's there... |
| escape Ancillary concepts dance in my head. I border on truth and wishful thinking--the last bastion of understanding is locked safely in my soul, but I can't find the key. I've lost the damned thing. ... What does all this mean? Attempts to make sense of it all have been futile. I stare into my lime-green coffee cup, watching the black and bitter fluid inside release its steam. The rising of molecules into the air. Escape. I should be so lucky. The diner is nearly empty. I consider ordering breakfast, but decide against it. "Refill?" The waitress is standing beside my booth, coffee pot in hand. She's in her mid-30s, semi-pretty with dyed blond hair worn in a bun. "Yeah, sure," I reply. She brims my lime-green coffee cup. "So, tell me something," I say to her, "what's the meaning of life?" She pauses for a moment. She smiles. "The meaning of life? The meaning of life is to have a life of meaning." She walks away, coffee pot in hand. I turn back to stare into my lime-green coffee cup and think about escape. ... * * * "Hmmmm...I dunno, Stan. I think it's a pretty interesting start to a pretty interesting flash fiction piece, considering it just kind of put itself together. Don't ya think?" "It's garbage, Don. It's crap. It's too pretentious. It's too cute. What do you think I'm trying to say with it? Where's it heading? I need an objective opinion." "Let's see...heavy feelings of entrapment are there, embedded in the story. Is that what you're after?" "I don't know what I was after. Like I said, it just kind of wrote itself, remember?" "Yeah, right. Anyway, I was kind of intrigued by your statement, 'I border on truth and wishful thinking--the last bastion of understanding is locked safely in my soul, but I can't find the key. I've lost the damned thing. ...' Is that a characterization of how you feel?" "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I do. That's exactly how I feel." "Also, I noticed your very obvious emphasis on escape. Escape from what? An ordinary, lime-green existence? Do you feel trapped by your ordinary, lime-green existence?" "Yes, Don. My ordinary, lime-green existence. You said it was very obvious." "You don't even drink your coffee black, you know. You load it up with sugar and cream. I don't know how you can stand it." "You're going way too deep with this. It's just a simple little story about typical existential angst." "Let me tell you something, my friend--there's no such thing as a simple story. All stories are complicated, okay? Remember that." "What about the waitress? What did you think about the waitress?" "What'd I think about the waitress?" "Yeah. That's what I asked you." "I think that you think that women are deposits of truth and wisdom. I also think that you want to butter the waitress's toast." "Gee, thanks. That was a sexist thing to say." "Hmmmm." "Are women deposits of truth and wisdom?" "In my experience? Yes." "Where does that leave us?" "We're just two guys trying to escape from our ordinary, lime-green existences." # # # |
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| © 2001 Tim Ljunggren |
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