Time Keeps Us (story begining perhaps)
There was a sway to the whole body when you watched her walking away like that. I suppose things in motion always catch your eye. B-e-c-k-i-e with a heart over the “i” is her name. The crumpled up receipt made a three pointer swish in the trash can before I had a chance to read the number. She’s not a regular. Probably not even a local. Maybe an older student at the community college one town down. I’m just glad she thought her night was a success while it was still early enough to make it down the steep stairs without tripping. No telling how long she’ll wait for a call tonight before she realizes I’m not coming.
“You need another one of those?”
Bill was a nice guy. Of course, I’ve only known one tender, but he was by far the best. The place overall was kind of crazy the way it was built. From the front you see an old boarded up dress shop and then this dilapidated doorway almost hanging from the side. Twenty years ago, my first time coming to it, I was afraid to walk in. I held onto my dad’s hand tight and pulled my knees repeatedly up too my chest trying to conquer those stairs. The entire stair well was encased in rotting paint and plaster and that was all you could see as your eyes followed the steps straight up. At the top you were facing a wall and to the right was another doorway, also without a door. My dad turned without pausing other than to brush the cobwebs out of the doorframe and walked right in. My own hand dropped from his and I just stood there at the edge. I was unable to move. Even back then I didn’t like change but that wasn’t it. It was one of those feelings you get when you walk into a room and you feel it at some other time and it just doesn’t feel right. You can hear the voices and catch little glimpses and snibits but nothing concrete other than the understanding that these things being experienced seem familiar. I didn’t realize what was going on back then but it’s a feeling I know all too well now. The only problem is that you don’t know if these are things that are going to happen or if they already have. Not that knowing the time would make any difference. It’s just nice to know what to expect.
“Daryl,… you want another Beer or not?”
“You need another one of those?”
Bill was a nice guy. Of course, I’ve only known one tender, but he was by far the best. The place overall was kind of crazy the way it was built. From the front you see an old boarded up dress shop and then this dilapidated doorway almost hanging from the side. Twenty years ago, my first time coming to it, I was afraid to walk in. I held onto my dad’s hand tight and pulled my knees repeatedly up too my chest trying to conquer those stairs. The entire stair well was encased in rotting paint and plaster and that was all you could see as your eyes followed the steps straight up. At the top you were facing a wall and to the right was another doorway, also without a door. My dad turned without pausing other than to brush the cobwebs out of the doorframe and walked right in. My own hand dropped from his and I just stood there at the edge. I was unable to move. Even back then I didn’t like change but that wasn’t it. It was one of those feelings you get when you walk into a room and you feel it at some other time and it just doesn’t feel right. You can hear the voices and catch little glimpses and snibits but nothing concrete other than the understanding that these things being experienced seem familiar. I didn’t realize what was going on back then but it’s a feeling I know all too well now. The only problem is that you don’t know if these are things that are going to happen or if they already have. Not that knowing the time would make any difference. It’s just nice to know what to expect.
“Daryl,… you want another Beer or not?”
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