Thursday, December 22, 2011

Easily distracted

“I don’t write anymore,” I said.

He looked at me and nodded slightly, as if he understood, which was impossible because he really didn’t know me.

“I used to write all the time. About everything. But then it was like I’d already said everything that needed to be said, and I started writing less and less. And then one day I wasn’t writing at all.”

“Maybe you should write about things that don’t need to be said.” His eyes sought mine and then looked away, as if something far off in the distance had suddenly caught his attention.

“You mean like sunsets and ocean breezes and the purr of a kitten when you hold it just right?”

“A closet can hold only so much baggage. Skeletons need room to dance.”

I smiled, slightly. Amused that he though my skeletons could dance. And in the distance something moved. Just enough to make me turn my head. And there we were, two strangers balancing on the uncertainty of the moment. Too easily distracted by the little things, flickering on the horizon.