Post by Lets_Eat_Paste on Jul 18, 2013 14:16:19 GMT -6
Aryeh Feldman
There came a point in every person’s life when dress code was just a fancy word for meshuggah and deadline became some vague suggestion for submission. The way Aryeh saw it, at 83, they were lucky he was working at all. He was the most underdressed person there, but he also determined if anyone came and saw the opera with his trusted review. He wanted to say the opera had been good, but the longer he looked at the water and thought about the matinee performance, the more he forgot about it. Had it been Wagner or Strauss? He remembered the opera being in German and he remembered having to squint to see the performers. But that was really it. His brain was a blank sheet. Must have been that forgettable.
He walked along the water, fixated by the ripples in the sunset. Adrienne loved this place and once she was out of make-up, she would be there to join him. He could ask her then which opera it was he watched her perform in, temper granting. Adrienne was a volatile woman. Sometimes, she was gentle and caring. Other times, Aryeh could hardly make out what she was saying through curtains of tears as she drank and lamented on how talentless she thought she was. But today, Aryeh hoped for the prior as he sat on their bench, watching the ducks. Any minute now, she’d be here.
But something in the back of his mind itched, some obnoxious tickle that told him Adrienne was never coming. Pure paranoia he told himself. She’s on her way.
There came a point in every person’s life when dress code was just a fancy word for meshuggah and deadline became some vague suggestion for submission. The way Aryeh saw it, at 83, they were lucky he was working at all. He was the most underdressed person there, but he also determined if anyone came and saw the opera with his trusted review. He wanted to say the opera had been good, but the longer he looked at the water and thought about the matinee performance, the more he forgot about it. Had it been Wagner or Strauss? He remembered the opera being in German and he remembered having to squint to see the performers. But that was really it. His brain was a blank sheet. Must have been that forgettable.
He walked along the water, fixated by the ripples in the sunset. Adrienne loved this place and once she was out of make-up, she would be there to join him. He could ask her then which opera it was he watched her perform in, temper granting. Adrienne was a volatile woman. Sometimes, she was gentle and caring. Other times, Aryeh could hardly make out what she was saying through curtains of tears as she drank and lamented on how talentless she thought she was. But today, Aryeh hoped for the prior as he sat on their bench, watching the ducks. Any minute now, she’d be here.
But something in the back of his mind itched, some obnoxious tickle that told him Adrienne was never coming. Pure paranoia he told himself. She’s on her way.
