“I must look like a drowned rat,” she sits down beside me her short brown hair plastered to her head and water still dripping from the spiked by rain ends.
“Because of the tail?” I take a sip of my very hot americano and wait to see if my joke has any effect. All I get is a stare that says I must be deranged. I get that deranged look a lot, it’s almost as good as a laugh.
“It’s pouring out there. When is it supposed to stop? she turns and with a bit of tugging places a drippy, light weight jacket on the back of her chair.
I click on the weather icon at the top of my Mac Air, “got about a half inch of dark green left and then it lightens for another half an inch.”
“And?”
“An hour?”
“Can I just sit here that long?”
“I’ll be here at least that long, you’re invited,” I dispose of the Weather Chanel and re-read what I have written.
“What you writing?” she looks over my arm and starts reading.
“It’s a short story about a cute girl that comes in out of the rain and sits by me in a Starbucks.”
“Just cute, not beautiful?”
“Well, she just got drenched in the rain and resembles a drowned rat so cute isn’t bad. She probably cleans up pretty good.
Still reading my screen she says, “hey wait, I have long red hair and this girl has short brown hair. What’s the deal?”
“Poetic license,” she looks me in the eyes and waits for further explanation. “I wanted water to drip down the strands of her hair but I couldn’t think of a word for long hair bunching up into thick strands so I used spikes of short hair, everyone knows what that looks like.”
“And why brown?”
“The girls in all my stories have red hair I just thought I’d try something different.”
“I suppose I could dye it brown.”
“And cut it short? The red head skin and freckles would really pop with dark brown hair.” I duck a little and raise my arm a bit in defense. I take the punch on my shoulder. “I mean I love you just the way you are, don’t change a thing.” She gives me a wet kiss on the cheek.
david blankenship 