the art of film

₆ professional

    "hey, donahue." 

    "edmonton." 

    "eddie," he corrects, not missing a beat. he stands at my door and taps his fingers against the frame. 

   "what does this," he gestures to himself -his clothes, im guessing, "say about myself?" 

    i'm about to laugh before noticing that yes, he knocked at my door just to ask me about his outfit. 

    he looks at me expectantly and then taps his watch, "donahue." 

    "okay, edmonton," i mock-ponder, "you look like you harbour an adoration for playing sudoku and reading encyclopedias." 

    he groans, "is it because i buttoned my shirt up to the top or is it because of the glasses?" 

    "do you even need glasses?"

    he smirks, "nope. they don't have prescription. it just makes me look smarter. and," he shrugs, "not like a dumb athletic bloke with an adoration for partying. i need to look professional."

    he drags out the word 'professional.' 

    i shrug, "lose the glasses, untuck your shirt and please, unbutton the top button." 

    he takes them off and passes them to me, "i'll get these back later. i have a hot date with a hot girl who's a hot second year uni bio student." 

    i play along, "naturally you need to look professional." 

    "first impressions are always the last, donahue." 

    "wait 'till she finds out that you're a dumb athletic bloke with an adoration for partying." 

    he shrugs, "maybe she won't."  

    i tell him to get lost and he salutes. 

    today's wednesday, yesterday was tuesday and tomorrow will be thursday. even though i've been wearing the same sweater for the past three days and don't really have a full load to clean... i decide that i can find some things to throw into a bag and bring to the laundromat tomorrow. because tomorrow's laundry night. 

    i look for my copy of 'the great gatsby'. 

-authors note-

i put my wool sweater in the dryer and it shrunk : ((