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Weekly Contest #79
I’m not sure what to feel. What is normal to feel. As I watch him approach me by the gas station on 204th Street, I notice that I feel clammy. Yeah, that’s it: I feel nervous. My heartbeat tingles in my fingers, light, fast; my eyes dart to the cars on the street as I stand there, waiting. Awkwardly. I shove my sweaty hands into the pockets of my jeans. He’s too close for me to ignore him now. He’s aged. No surprise, but it’s a strange provocation to the image of him that I’ve crystallized throughout the years. Maybe it’s the...
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