Things were going so well. Lia wonders if she jinxed things. She can’t help reviewing the tally so far: he’s a vegan, he has a sister who is a professor of feminist Victorian literature, he likes backgammon, he hates poker, he rides a bike, doesn’t do yoga but is willing to try. Samuel is a great guy. He’s brewing them a pot of lavender rooibos tea right now! Lia waits on the futon couch, but she is fixated on the toenail clipping five inches from her socked foot. It is a huge perfect crescent of dirty bone on the dark wood floor. Why is it here? Lia wants to look away but she can’t stop staring. It is most definitely the clipping from a large toenail. Does he sit here and clip while watching movies on his laptop or did it ricochet from his perch at the table? Was he clipping while reading the Sunday paper? Oh man, the Sunday paper was one of the things in the plus column. No one goes out and buys the Sunday Times, everyone reads online. Except her, and now him. But are their Sunday rituals compatible?
8 min @ the desk, 3.7.13, inspired by quote overheard at The Commons on College St.
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