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Tem 22

Nirvana Expanded

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When the bus made its stops, none of its innards, us folks, complained of not having enough time to smoke. None of us came back with the stench of piss or liquor or the drama of too many drugs. It was a smooth ride. Up mountains and through towns.

When it began to snow, it was a soft snow with big, fat flakes. None of that pissing ice and rain. It was soft and light and as soon as the bus slowed near a warm looking cafe – with its glowing “Open!” sign lighting up one letter at a time; O P E N – by the time that happened salt trucks were meandering out onto the streets with their hazards. As if to say Go get some pie! We’ll take care of it.

We all shuffled inside the belly of the cafe with its regulars. Don’t ask me how I know. But I know. There’s a way people look when they’re home. Fatter, happier, more content and easier to smile. Guys in wind jackets yammered about their days to waitresses before letting out spitty laughs that roared through the place. The conversation buzzing like a honey bee with no stinger.

“What’ll artemisbet yeni giriş you have?” asked the waitress as soon as I nested amongst the bar guys. Sitting on a soft stool that didn’t squeak or beg for mercy.

I rattled off my order which didn’t matter much because everything smelled delicious from the pot roast to the french toast to the spaghetti to the meatloaf and mashed potatoes. My meal was warm and even though the heater had long warmed my bones, looking outside at the snow whipping around and icing every surface made me grateful. The coffee was better and hotter, washing it down with a smooth, edge-less warmth.

“Need anything else, honey?”

I didn’t ask her for her number or bother her during her shift. There was something about this place. Something that told all its innards, us folks, to be cool. She moved between men like they couldn’t hurt her. Like all men weren’t made of teeth and salt. She was pleasant. Orange, golden hair tucked behind her ears. artemisbet giriş Soft skin. Big hips. You could imagine her in the glow of some candlelight with her legs on either side of your hips as you rocked back and forth. You could imagine yourself calling it making love when referring to it. Of the absolute necessity to your life to make it. Of her growing belly, of Christmas cards, of a house and the two of you whitewashing it and making the best of what is given to you. Of what you make. You could imagine trading leftover pies for crawling up that skirt and snaking your tongue against her clit until her fingernails were digging into your scalp and she was calling out to whatever spirit she lets lead her. She poured me more coffee. “You good, baby?”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“My cousin, Vin-man,” said the cook through the window to nobody in particular. “Used to catch birds and sell them to magicians. He worked in London and he’d catch a pigeon in the morning and have it sold by that evening. He artemisbet güvenilirmi did that for years. Until magicians knew where to come for their pigeons. Then he joined the circus.”

The dishwasher stopped spraying the pans. “As a magician?”

“What?” The cook said, confused. “No, no. He was the bearded-lady.”

The dishwasher’s laugh jingled with a lightness that made the cook smile and the waitress too and I think I was probably smiling too.

And we had pie. At the behest of everyone, we had triple berry with vanilla ice cream melting into purple puddles around the golden crust.

When it was time to go, we settled up. Throwing loose bills onto the table. Tipping well and feeling better and the bus driver had finished his cigarette and waved to us kindly. It was time to go. Time to go?

I thought about sitting right down there on the sidewalk. Letting the snow cover me up. Taking a long, heavy nap until winter rolled out and the spring thawed me. I thought about staying right there and letting the vines crawl all over me and tie me down to the cracks in the sidewalks. Instead, I climbed back on the bus.

The light up sign was still spelling O-P-E-N as it would all night when the bus rattled and pulled onto the cleared roads. Our windows fogged by warm breath.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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