Nothing was meant to happen on February 17th, and nothing indeed is what happened. The day simply was, like any other, though lacking in exposition, rising action, climax, or denouement. Everything just trucked along, as per usual.
The croissant was littered with almonds, though it was not an almond croissant.
It couldn’t escape the almonds, being directly next to the almond croissants. It couldn’t avoid the sugar, or the slivers, or the general almondiness of the almond croissants.
But it wasn’t an almond croissant itself.
So it sat on the shelf, languishing, until all the almond croissants were gone, and languishing some more.
At the end of the day, the non-almond croissant was packed in a little bag, and put on the half-price shelf, to be picked up tomorrow, perhaps, or thrown out.
Taryn turned her head as the car drove by, and spat out her gum.
The gum hit the car. The drivers looked up from his text, swerved, and hit a pole.
The pole fell onto the road, hitting a truck’s bed.
The driver of the truck looked up from his text and swerved, hitting a building.
The building stayed right where it was, a little damaged but still standing.
It was Valentine’s Day, and Joseph needed a heart.
It wasn’t that he was alone, or sad. It was more a medical issue, given that his heart had been giving him trouble for the past several years. Occasionally not functioning, though he had a pacemaker for that. Occasionally getting all congested, due to a build-up of plaque. Ultimately, it was decided that he just needed a whole new heart, and he was waiting for one.
As he lay in the hospital bed, carefully monitored to keep him alive, Joseph wondered if the day would come through.
The hours ticked by. His partner dropped by for the daily hello and meal. He whiled away the lonelier hours reading a book, making notes in his log.
At 10pm, Joseph knew he wouldn’t get a new heart today. He settled in, closed his eyes, and went to sleep for another night, hopeful that tomorrow would be a little brighter.
Clifton was not Clifton today, he was Cyrus.
Cyrus was not Cyrus, he was Tawna.
Tawna was not Tawna, but Jana.
Jana did not want to take part, even though everyone still called her Jed.
Jed giggled when everyone called him Cheri.
And Cheri refused to answer to any name, because she had changed hers the day before, but no one could remember what it was now supposed to be, even though she was actually supposed to be Clifton today.
Marie dumped her change out into her hand. She dropped each coin back into the change purse, counting as she went.
At the end of it, some thirty seconds later, Marie looked up. “I’m missing a penny!” she exclaimed.
Everyone in the café looked at her. Silence fell.
“Someone has my penny, and I’ll be damned if I let you buggers get away with it!”
No one moved, unsure what would happen next.
The barista, from behind the counter, said, “Excuse me, ma’am? You have a penny on your lap.”
“Oh,” Marie said, looking down. She picked the penny up and dropped it in her purse. “I guess I dropped it. Oops!” Her face turned red, and she looked down as she closed her wallet and returned it to her bag.
Conversation resumed, and Marie sipped her drink.
Albert and Bennett sat at the bar, their respective dates out on the dancefloor. Long-time friends, Sybil and Noelle had dragged new beaus to the bar so they could all meet, get to know each other, and have fun.
Sybil and Noelle had immediately gone to dance, before even introducing Albert and Bennett.
Albert sipped his beer, then turned to Bennett. He eyed him up and down, then got close. He sniffed Bennett’s nose, then Bennett’s shoulder.
Bennett sniffed back. A moment later, they were sniffing near each other’s seats.
Albert growled back.
They pulled back, eying each other, lips curled.
Bennett broke the tension, pulling in close for another sniff. Albert relaxed, sniffed as well.
They raised their glasses, clinked them together, and quickly fell in to conversation.
Anabel held her umbrella in one hand, folded up, at her side. The rain poured down, but she refused to lift it.
She loved to follow the rules, Anabel. So now, with the wind blowing, she knew she couldn’t open the umbrella without it getting damaged, possible destroyed. She would need to simply accept the wetness.
When she arrived at work, Anabel’s coworkers asked why she was so wet. She smiled, and said, “Have you seen the rain out there?” They accepted this, though they, too, had been in the rain and were much less wet than she.
Still, Anabel had done as she needed to, and she hoped the wind would be less when she left.
As Tony read in the bathtub, he felt superior.
He had wanted to relax, enjoy some quiet time in the warmth. But at the same time, he wanted to read. Problem solved – book in the tub.
Of course, when he dropped his book the first time, he felt a little silly. But it was okay, just a bit wet, he caught it quickly and it was okay.
When Tony dropped his book a second time, it took longer to get it, and the pages were now soaked, the water bleeding deeper and deeper.
The third time he dropped the book, Tony gave up and threw it out of the tub, to languish on the floor, eventually to molder and decompose.
The kite flew in the wind, blown left and right, up and down. It’s string was firmly attached to a young woman’s hand. The kite was high up in the air, held aloft only by the wind and its surface, and the tension of being kept in place. Moving, but static.
At any moment, the woman knew, the wind could stop and her kite could fall, or the string could break, and the kite would fall, or she could let go and her kite could fall. But for now, it was aloft.
She watched as her kite flew, and enjoyed it while she could, before reeling the toy in.