Never be afraid to get dirty, but be sufficiently sure-footed to avoid the abyss of contamination.

Friday Night – I

I thought I’d try my hand at fiction. This will be the first in a series of installments, which may be interspersed among other posts. Any resemblance to events real or imagined is purely coincidental.

The letter sat on Steve’s desk. It had arrived on Monday, but he had read it over several times during the week. He pulled the letter out of the envelope once again. Steve didn’t need to reread it. The words had been etched into his memory. Looking at the letter now, the words “distance” and “career” stuck out, as did the phrases “great times we had” and “still be friends.” The latter two, which had been words of hope earlier in the week, seemed empty now after repeated phone calls to Erica’s cell went unanswered.

Steve finished the letter. He would have reread it, but there were voices in the hallway. His office hours had ended at 5, but Steve had left the door open in case anyone might show up. Who would show up now? It was 7 PM on a Friday. Putting the letter away, Steve walked into the hallway to see TJ and Josh, two of his graduate students. They had their jackets and bookbags on and looked like they were about to head out.

“Are you guys headed somewhere?” Steve asked.

“Oh, we were just going grab a bite and head over to the pool hall on College,” responded TJ as Josh glanced at his watch.

“Awesome! I’ll join you guys. Give me a minute to grab my stuff.”

Before they could respond, Steve went back to his office to pack up and grab his jacket.


One response

  1. Neelam

    Ooooh! What happens next?

    December 10, 2006 at 8:12 am

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s