cupid’s misfire

Her hands sweat.

“Time, gentlemen. Next table, please.”

He sits.

You are gorgeous!”

And… you are too young for me!”

“Name?”

“Suzanne. Yours?”

“J.J.. My mother’s name was Suzanne.”

“Oh, really?” She’s distracted. “What are you writing?”

“You’re the one. You tick all my boxes.”

He looks at her with familiar eyes.

“What do you do J.J.?”

“I’m a firefighter in Melville.”

“Really? I lived there a long time ago.” She hesitates. “What does J.J. stand for?”

“Jonas Jackson.”

She pales and stands.

“What’s wrong?”

She left him once, twenty years ago, she’ll leave him again. She can’t date—

her son.

About troysherdahl

A blue-collar bohemian with a penchant for fine words and dirty jeans.
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