First Date
"What's your middle name?"
I bristle, because I've always been embarrassed by my middle name.
"Ugh, it's embarrassing."
"I'll tell you my middle name," he said, "what's yours?"
"You have to promise not to laugh at me."
We pinky promise, the most sacred of all promises.
"I won't laugh. My middle name's embarrassing too."
I look down and say, defeated, "It's Joy."
"Oh, I like that. It's funny because mine's Roy."
At this point I'm ready to call bullshit.
Same birthdays. Both nerds. Now our middle names rhyme?
No way.
"You've gotta be kidding me."
"No, I'll even show you."
He pulled out his driver's license and slapped it down on the table for me to see.
Our first names both started with A.
The middle names both had only one syllable, and rhymed.
And our last names?
Both had one syllable and the same beginning sound, just one began with a different letter.
Oh, and the birth date?
Same month, same day.
"This is crazy," I said.
***
Little did I know that one day I'd be recalling these facts to an officer. Or that while writing this, I'd realize that the photo array the investigator gave me... it came from his Driver's License. I could never forget those eyes.
YOU ARE READING
Taking back the Moon
Short StoryA description serves no purpose but to lure readers in. So why should you read? Well, I attempt to make sense of rape in the form of prose, flash back, and poetry. It is what it is.
