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March 27, 2009

Friday

(Per my wife's suggestion...)

"What's that smell?"

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Frozen by Memory
Jacob stepped onto the platform into the wall of stifling air and commuters. He knifed through the crush, using his shoulders like wedges, and ran through his mental checklist. Seven months and no nibbles; a lot was resting on this interview. He focused on the exit. Then, as if yanked by a string, Jacob's head spun left.

Mental checklists, rent, medical bills: they all flew from his head, replaced by Erica.

Erica. Months after the breakup, he still clutched her pillow to his face, breathing ghost traces of her perfume as he drifted to sleep. He wouldn't be interviewing today.

Posted by: R.A. Porter at March 27, 2009 3:32 AM · Permalink