Friday, September 26, 2014

HIS LUNGS WERE WEAK






I sat down at the bar, waiting for him to show up, not wanting him to wander around the cavernous bar searching. He arrived behind me, grabbing my shoulder and saying how sorry he was late but so happy to see me still. We had an argument, of sorts, neither of us able to tell the truth about what that argument was even about.

He said he was unhealthy and I could hear it in his breath. He said that he wanted me to know that there was no single source of support aside from me.

I found this to be rather stupid, since I had only agreed to this meeting on the fish fly of a free drink and that mild flirting that we had engaged in in the past but now I had found boring.

He gasped out a few fine points of connection – something that made me feel sad for him for making me feel sad for so long.

He then took a drink, coughed it all up and then some, and told me how he was so happy to see me but he had to leave, just because and I said ‘of course’, just because.