A Tire Swing Story is a bite-sized "imagining" inspired by an object I discover while wandering. It could be a curbside trash gem or a message sprayed on a wall. A lost mitten, or an antique store find. Anything goes. I photograph the object and post them together, the story and its inspiration. There will be a new story every Monday and Wednesday. On Fridays, I'll discuss writing, life, love, and coffee. (In no particular order and maybe all at once.)

Monday, November 12, 2012

Sarah suggests they take a walk. 
"What for?" Ben says, his eyes on the computer screen. He is reading the Yahoo news, some story about a guy who invented edible deodorant.
"It's nice out," Sarah says, "we could get a pumpkin or something." 

Ben puts his coat on over the very same t-shirt he wore to bed. It smells like his unwashed skin and hair. She wants him to put on a clean one. Can't you smell yourself? But then he'd probably change his mind about the whole walk, so she lets it go. 

Outside, the air has that special fall crispness that makes you feel like you're in an ad for sweaters. They walk without speaking, and Ben's hand dangles beside hers and she thinks about taking it, but doesn't.

The sidewalk is littered with fallen leaves, and seed pods that pop beneath their feet. And maple keys. This reminds Sarah of being a child and peeling open the sticky seed pod so she could attach the key to the bridge of her nose. How happy such a simple thing had made her then. 

On Robinson Avenue, they come across the toilets.
"Would you look at that." Ben says.
There must be a dozen of them, porcelain tanks and bowls like pale torsos lying in the grass. 
"Why so many all at once?" he asks her, as if she's got the answer.   

She can still smell his t-shirt under his jacket and it's making her slightly nauseous. She thinks she might throw up, which would be quite a funny thing to do beside all those broken toilets. 

He takes her hand and smiles. "Home?" he says. 

And though they turn and start to walk in that direction, Sarah has the feeling they might never get there again. 

No comments:

Post a Comment