Rossos Atrapes
Jan 29th, 2010, 04:52:55 PM
I'm hoping for some feedback on this, as it's the first actual short story I've written and finished in years. It's kinda long for a post, but not all that long for a complete story, so yeah.
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A Flipbook of Memories
The airport was busy; busier than either of them had expected. The voices of the people already inside were like the humming and chirping of insects back home to him. They were almost like a lullaby.
They held hands as they made their way to the attendant at the ticketing desk. He stopped, staring at the generically attractive woman in the airline uniform.
He turned back to the girl at his side.
“I’ve still got some time,” he said. “I don’t have to go just yet.”
He looked around. The signs of the different stores and money-holes weren’t as unfamiliar to him as they’d been the first time in the place. He had almost no trouble reading them now, even though it didn’t matter. He didn’t need to be able to read them when he was going back.
“Want to get something to eat?” he asked. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry,” she replied.
He grinned.
“Yeah. What do you want to eat?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. What haven’t we had in a while?”
“We’ve not had...” she started.
“I’m really hungry, so it needs to be something filling. No fast food.”
“Alright. Have we had pizza?”
“I think we have. Last week.”
“Did we?”
“I think so.”
“Well, how about a noodle shop?”
“Udon? I don’t think we’ve had that in a while.”
The last time they had eaten noodles they hadn’t made themselves had been almost a month before. It had been for her birthday. He’d kept the place darkened and everyone had to be really quiet. Not for a surprise, but for the camera; it was her special day, and the light from the candles on the cake had illuminated her face in a soft, golden glow. They’d gone to the noodle place down a few blocks from where he lived. It was fancier than he was used to going, and she’d noticed. It was very sweet of him, she’d said.
“Is there one around here?” she asked. He shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
“We should find a map then. There should be one nearby.”
They started walking.
The airport seemed busier now, if that were possible. They stayed close together so that they weren’t separated. It could take a while to join back together if that happened. There was a map some distance away. It took them two minutes to get to it.
“When’s your flight again?” she asked.
“7:30,” he replied absently, looking at the signs hanging from the walls and matching them to descriptions and labels on the maps. More food shops, convenience stores, and gift shops. Money-pits. He turned back to her and grinned.
“We have time,” he said.
“I hope we find it soon though, you don’t want to be too late. Customs can take a while.”
He nodded.
“That’s true,” he said. “But we have some time.”
It was another five minutes before they found an udon shop, and it took them three minutes to get inside; they didn’t talk much as they walked. He remembered the place, though: the noodle shop. He’d gotten something to eat here when he first arrived. Then he’d gotten himself set up, to work, and then he met her. The airport hadn’t seemed as crowded then. His friends had been there with him then. They’d left two weeks ago; he’d stayed behind.
The shop was small and crowded. The line to wait wasn’t that long, but they had some time to kill before they could order.
“Who’s going to pick you up?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Someone will. I’m not worried about it.”
“You should be,” she said.
“It’ll work out.”
“I suppose,” she said. He turned from looking at the menu and grinned at her.
“It will. I just wish you were coming with me. It’ll be boring on the plane.”
“You brought something to read, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “The Lewis book you got me.”
She’d gotten it for him two weeks before her birthday. He’d started to read it, but stopped after a while. It was interesting to read, especially translated as it was, but The Great Divorce needed to be read fully, with a person’s full attention. He’d been too busy to do that, so he had put it down, saving it for later.
“Really? You haven’t read it yet?”
He shook his head, his eyes back on the riotously coloured menu.
“Was saving it for the plane, actually.”
“That’s good,” she said. “You planned ahead.”
“What do you want?” he asked, shifting his bag on his shoulders so he could get to the wallet in his back pocket. She reached in there and pulled it out for him. “Thanks.”
“The beef,” she decided. He counted out the bills he needed for their meals.
“You should save your money,” she murmured, leaning in close.
He nodded.
“I know. But I’ll be all right. It’s not that expensive.”
“You don’t have to pay for me.”
“I want to pay for you,” he said. Her brows raised, but she smiled.
He ordered the noodles for the both of them, and handed the money to the cashier.
They found themselves some empty seats; a flight must have left, since the shop was not as crowded as before.
“I want to translate the stories,” she said as they sat.
“You decided then?” he said. She nodded.
“I think they’ll work really well.”
“Just as long as you put your name on ‘em too. Which ones?”
She started to answer, but wasn’t intelligible around a mouthful of noodles. He started laughing. She joined in after a moment, setting her hashi down and wiping her mouth. He didn’t stop chuckling for a while.
“The normal ones.”
“The others need work then, eh?”
She nodded, slurping her noodles.
“You like ‘em?” he asked with a grin.
“They’re good,” she said with a slight smile.
“Not bad,” he agreed. “Not as good as yours though.”
“I make mine the exact same way, I think.”
“Still better.”
The rest of the meal was finished in silence. When they finished, he took their trays and dumped the garbage into the bin and placed them on top with the other trays. She took his hand, and led him through the crowds back to the ticketing desk.
It reminded him of the first time she’d taken him out for a festival. The streets had been colourful, and people had been dancing in the streets for parades. They hadn’t returned to her place until after midnight, and he didn’t return to his place. They hadn’t had sex, though. Instead, they’d watched television and drank cola and beer until passing out in the early morning, barely making it into the bed. He still remembered her dragging him around to see all the different things in the festival; everything seemed to move in slow motion, like a series of pictures that were strung together, or a flip book made of memories. He had the picture of them at the festival in his wallet.
He slowed himself down, pulling her back to his side. It would take a while to get to the desk this way, and the airport was still very crowded.
“You know I’ll visit you. It’s not that bad,” she said.
“You don’t know that,” he replied. “It’s expensive; and I don’t want you to go and find out you don’t like it and be stuck there.”
She didn’t reply to that.
“It’ll be at least a year before I can come back,” he said finally.
“I told you I’d wait.”
He didn’t reply to that.
“Well, I should probably get through customs, or I’ll be late.”
“I thought we had plenty of time.” she smiled.
He took hold of her other hand.
“Thank you,” he said. “For driving me and all that.”
She pushed him lightly, disengaging their hands. “Get going, or you’ll miss your flight.”
He nodded. He leaned forward after a moment, and kissed her. Their eyes closed. One of his arms went around her waist; hers went around his neck. He leaned back, breaking the contact.
“You don’t have to wait for me,” he said.
“I want to wait for you,” she replied.
He smiled.
“Just... try and not keep me waiting for too long. Okay?”
He nodded.
“Yeah. Sayonara.”
“Sayonara.”
He walked up to the ticketing desk and showed the attendant his paperwork and boarding passes. Before he passed through into customs, he looked back, hoping to see her.
But he couldn’t see her. She was gone.
The customs officials were cold and indifferent, like cold water which didn’t really wake him up but left him with a fuzzy head and feeling cold on top of that. He wondered what she’d think when she found the book on the table back at her place.
He passed through the gate and walked down the tunnel onto the plane.
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<style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { margin: 56.7pt } P { text-indent: 36pt; margin-bottom: 6pt } P.western { font-family: "Cambria", serif } --> </style>
A Flipbook of Memories
The airport was busy; busier than either of them had expected. The voices of the people already inside were like the humming and chirping of insects back home to him. They were almost like a lullaby.
They held hands as they made their way to the attendant at the ticketing desk. He stopped, staring at the generically attractive woman in the airline uniform.
He turned back to the girl at his side.
“I’ve still got some time,” he said. “I don’t have to go just yet.”
He looked around. The signs of the different stores and money-holes weren’t as unfamiliar to him as they’d been the first time in the place. He had almost no trouble reading them now, even though it didn’t matter. He didn’t need to be able to read them when he was going back.
“Want to get something to eat?” he asked. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry,” she replied.
He grinned.
“Yeah. What do you want to eat?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. What haven’t we had in a while?”
“We’ve not had...” she started.
“I’m really hungry, so it needs to be something filling. No fast food.”
“Alright. Have we had pizza?”
“I think we have. Last week.”
“Did we?”
“I think so.”
“Well, how about a noodle shop?”
“Udon? I don’t think we’ve had that in a while.”
The last time they had eaten noodles they hadn’t made themselves had been almost a month before. It had been for her birthday. He’d kept the place darkened and everyone had to be really quiet. Not for a surprise, but for the camera; it was her special day, and the light from the candles on the cake had illuminated her face in a soft, golden glow. They’d gone to the noodle place down a few blocks from where he lived. It was fancier than he was used to going, and she’d noticed. It was very sweet of him, she’d said.
“Is there one around here?” she asked. He shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
“We should find a map then. There should be one nearby.”
They started walking.
The airport seemed busier now, if that were possible. They stayed close together so that they weren’t separated. It could take a while to join back together if that happened. There was a map some distance away. It took them two minutes to get to it.
“When’s your flight again?” she asked.
“7:30,” he replied absently, looking at the signs hanging from the walls and matching them to descriptions and labels on the maps. More food shops, convenience stores, and gift shops. Money-pits. He turned back to her and grinned.
“We have time,” he said.
“I hope we find it soon though, you don’t want to be too late. Customs can take a while.”
He nodded.
“That’s true,” he said. “But we have some time.”
It was another five minutes before they found an udon shop, and it took them three minutes to get inside; they didn’t talk much as they walked. He remembered the place, though: the noodle shop. He’d gotten something to eat here when he first arrived. Then he’d gotten himself set up, to work, and then he met her. The airport hadn’t seemed as crowded then. His friends had been there with him then. They’d left two weeks ago; he’d stayed behind.
The shop was small and crowded. The line to wait wasn’t that long, but they had some time to kill before they could order.
“Who’s going to pick you up?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Someone will. I’m not worried about it.”
“You should be,” she said.
“It’ll work out.”
“I suppose,” she said. He turned from looking at the menu and grinned at her.
“It will. I just wish you were coming with me. It’ll be boring on the plane.”
“You brought something to read, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “The Lewis book you got me.”
She’d gotten it for him two weeks before her birthday. He’d started to read it, but stopped after a while. It was interesting to read, especially translated as it was, but The Great Divorce needed to be read fully, with a person’s full attention. He’d been too busy to do that, so he had put it down, saving it for later.
“Really? You haven’t read it yet?”
He shook his head, his eyes back on the riotously coloured menu.
“Was saving it for the plane, actually.”
“That’s good,” she said. “You planned ahead.”
“What do you want?” he asked, shifting his bag on his shoulders so he could get to the wallet in his back pocket. She reached in there and pulled it out for him. “Thanks.”
“The beef,” she decided. He counted out the bills he needed for their meals.
“You should save your money,” she murmured, leaning in close.
He nodded.
“I know. But I’ll be all right. It’s not that expensive.”
“You don’t have to pay for me.”
“I want to pay for you,” he said. Her brows raised, but she smiled.
He ordered the noodles for the both of them, and handed the money to the cashier.
They found themselves some empty seats; a flight must have left, since the shop was not as crowded as before.
“I want to translate the stories,” she said as they sat.
“You decided then?” he said. She nodded.
“I think they’ll work really well.”
“Just as long as you put your name on ‘em too. Which ones?”
She started to answer, but wasn’t intelligible around a mouthful of noodles. He started laughing. She joined in after a moment, setting her hashi down and wiping her mouth. He didn’t stop chuckling for a while.
“The normal ones.”
“The others need work then, eh?”
She nodded, slurping her noodles.
“You like ‘em?” he asked with a grin.
“They’re good,” she said with a slight smile.
“Not bad,” he agreed. “Not as good as yours though.”
“I make mine the exact same way, I think.”
“Still better.”
The rest of the meal was finished in silence. When they finished, he took their trays and dumped the garbage into the bin and placed them on top with the other trays. She took his hand, and led him through the crowds back to the ticketing desk.
It reminded him of the first time she’d taken him out for a festival. The streets had been colourful, and people had been dancing in the streets for parades. They hadn’t returned to her place until after midnight, and he didn’t return to his place. They hadn’t had sex, though. Instead, they’d watched television and drank cola and beer until passing out in the early morning, barely making it into the bed. He still remembered her dragging him around to see all the different things in the festival; everything seemed to move in slow motion, like a series of pictures that were strung together, or a flip book made of memories. He had the picture of them at the festival in his wallet.
He slowed himself down, pulling her back to his side. It would take a while to get to the desk this way, and the airport was still very crowded.
“You know I’ll visit you. It’s not that bad,” she said.
“You don’t know that,” he replied. “It’s expensive; and I don’t want you to go and find out you don’t like it and be stuck there.”
She didn’t reply to that.
“It’ll be at least a year before I can come back,” he said finally.
“I told you I’d wait.”
He didn’t reply to that.
“Well, I should probably get through customs, or I’ll be late.”
“I thought we had plenty of time.” she smiled.
He took hold of her other hand.
“Thank you,” he said. “For driving me and all that.”
She pushed him lightly, disengaging their hands. “Get going, or you’ll miss your flight.”
He nodded. He leaned forward after a moment, and kissed her. Their eyes closed. One of his arms went around her waist; hers went around his neck. He leaned back, breaking the contact.
“You don’t have to wait for me,” he said.
“I want to wait for you,” she replied.
He smiled.
“Just... try and not keep me waiting for too long. Okay?”
He nodded.
“Yeah. Sayonara.”
“Sayonara.”
He walked up to the ticketing desk and showed the attendant his paperwork and boarding passes. Before he passed through into customs, he looked back, hoping to see her.
But he couldn’t see her. She was gone.
The customs officials were cold and indifferent, like cold water which didn’t really wake him up but left him with a fuzzy head and feeling cold on top of that. He wondered what she’d think when she found the book on the table back at her place.
He passed through the gate and walked down the tunnel onto the plane.