literature

According to the Script

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ithaswhatitisnt's avatar
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Literature Text

If their life were a work of fiction, as all life should be, this particular scene would play out as follows:

They meet in the most out-of-the-way diner they can manage to end up at.  They will not say a word as he holds the door open for her and she skirts past him, ignoring the thousand question-and-answers radiating from his expression by keeping her eyes trained on the tile floor.  

They sit in the corner, on opposite sides of the cramped, plush booth, away from the prying eyes of the only other diner, a drunkard sipping continually on coffee grounds to sober up before going home.  The blonde/brunette/omniscient waitress gravitates toward them, a make-up smile on her lips where her wan mouth should be hiding.

“What can I get you?” she drones nasally.  The pair stares at each other for a moment.  He orders alcohol-infused courage, the best drink after midnight, and she orders chamomile-titanium nerves, to keep her rooted to the spot and hear him out.  The waitress scuttles away, mumbling some inane words of wisdom that she knows the pair won’t listen to, because she’s an old woman, what does she know of today’s problems, and she will come back within a minute, not leaving any room for conversation to pull up a chair and assist the pair.  

The trickle of steam paints minuscule pictures on her glasses lenses, and she slowly lifts the small cup to her curled lips.  He tilts the shot glass into his mouth and licks his lips, staring at her.

“What do you want me to say?” he all but shouts, and her glare creates a gash across his heart.

“You know what you did.  I want to know why.  I didn't want to come here, and especially not with you,” she states calmly, the inferno raging behind her eyes.

“I give you everything you want, and when I want one simple thing, you say ‘no, sorry, not me’, like you’re some innocent, naïve little girl,” he retorts, and she merely sips her tea.

“I am an innocent, naïve little girl,” she says, not looking into his eyes.  He stands, ready to backhand her ignorance halfway across the room, but he reconsiders when the waitress locks eyes with him. Sitting back down, he stares at her, his silence demanding an explanation.

“You want too much from me.  You found what you wanted with someone else.  So why are we here?” she asks, and he is stunned when he realizes he does not have an answer.  He opens his mouth to offer a charming explanation that she will not question, but she beats him to it.

“You think you can atone for your infidelity,” she says in a voice beyond her years.  “You can’t.  You made the mistake once, and what is there to guarantee it won’t happen again?”  She pauses to sip her tea, and before she can continue, he slams his shot glass on the table.

“I love you!” he bellows, and the waitress and coffee-ground-sipping drunkard turn to look at the pair.  He is looming over her, panting as though he has sprinted a marathon, and she continues to look past him as though he does not exist.

“You are incapable of love,” she answers.  “An unfaithful partner doesn’t ever know how love feels.”  With that, she stands, dropping some change on the counter to tip the omniscient waitress, and moves to leave.

“You’re worthless, you know,” she says.  She does not look at him, and he sits back down, staring at the tea leaves left in her cup.

Though he does not know it, the tea leaves spell out his end.
I started writing this little scene, and I honestly don't know where it came from. Parts are meant to be sarcastic and cliched, and it's not meant to necessarily have a point.

It's been sitting on my hard drive for a while. I figured it was time to finish it. ^^ Enjoy.
© 2013 - 2024 ithaswhatitisnt
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Charlene-Art's avatar
Ooh this was really well written. I initially thought it was a date. I especially like the end with the tea leaves.