By the Light of the Silvery Moon
Penelope. Her name melted like the kiss of snowflakes on my tongue. As I was locking up the place, I still saw her in the middle of the showroom. Hand on one narrow hip, ordering her embarrassment of a father back to the car. Her shoulders didn’t droop and her hips didn’t swing when she fled.
“You like her, do you?” My father watched me watch her. Before I could reply, he whispered, “You can’t go falling for a poor farmer’s tomboy. Don’t even look like a girl.”
I ignored him and spit-shined a Thunderbird’s back end.
“She’s beneath you. Beneath us. You know it?”
I left without answering him. Rode with the top down and watched the moon slide up over the horizon, scattered moon beams on the river. If I wished on that light with all my might, could I love Penelope?
Could she be the reason I was forced to come back here?
Maybe she saw right through me, and that’s why she ran out of there so fast. When she wheeled out of the lot, though, she looked back. Locked her eyes on mine. I know I saw a crooked smile, and it’s that upturned line that might change everything.
A fiction series. Long overdue. Because, you must be well-and-truly-sick of reading about my life by now. So, what happened to that door? A series of possibilities. I’ll explore one or several. If it was even a door I passed at an intersection on the way to an appointment. Read the first installment here, the second installment here, the third installment here, the fourth installment here and the fifth installment here.