Spring 2015
“Oh, and what makes you so different, big shot?”
“Maybe I’m not” I replied, calming down.
“You want a fight right now?”
“Sure” I said without moving. He was all talk. Like I said, you spend enough time in bars you pick
up stuff like that. You know right from when they look at you or open their mouths if a guy is all talk
or not.
He was silent as the road team ran in the first score.
“Then why do you write” he began again.
“Jesus Christ! Are you gonna let me finish my beer and watch this game?”
“Why do you write if you hate it so much?”
“I like writing. I don’t like writers.”
He arched an eyebrow at me. “Which writers don’t you like?”
“I don’t like the ones that choose to do it.”
“You didn’t choose to do it?”
“No.” I replied quietly. “I have to do it.” A pretty blonde walked in with her friend. The friend
wasn’t much of a looker and I couldn’t work out if the blonde kept her around for ego or if they were
genuinely just friends. They had been in here the last few nights. The place was starting to fil l up.
“Have to do it why? For bread?”
“Sure”
“Or because you can’t not do it?”
“That too.”
He rubbed his mouth and chin thoughtfully and finished his drink, ordered another. He fell silent
for a few moments this time. I leaned back and checked on the truck. It was still sat there as I had left
it. It was thick with muck and the red lettering that said Kentucky Highway Maintenance was beginning
to chip and flake. Then Eddie set his drink down and he spoke once more while looking up at the screen.
“Who do you like in this game?”
“Michigan” I replied, keeping my eyes on the screen. “I like Michigan.”
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Art Title: Albert in search of his ideals, Artist: Aubrey Beardsley
The Linnet's Wings