She reached down to the blinking red mouse, mindlessly moving the cursor around the blank screen. Her friend swung left and right on her seat, behind the counter-top table, looking up at the only light source in the room. "Laze," her friend mumbled, "I feel... the laaaze."
She chuckled. The designing program finally loaded on the screen, and she made a fast work of importing her files. "It's a sign that you have to sleep," she replied, glancing at the clock on her screen. "It's one in the morning, Jem."
"So do you, right?"
The girl continued to work in silence. Jem, the friend, took a long breath and twirled a pack of instant coffee with her finger, indulging in the quietness. A slow folk-rock seeped out of the laptop's speaker, filling the cold air with some warmth that may not be found otherwise in the dead of night. While watching her friend's fingers danced on the keyboard, Jem squished the content of the coffee pack, imitating in amusement.
"What's it like to love?"
The girl stopped typing mid-sentence. "I don't know," she raised an eyebrow. "Like when you meet a puppy, maybe?"
All the puzzles, all the unfinished memories of what were supposed to be love stories came back inside her head. She kept it inside her, alone, not letting any out. Like misfits shoved and forcefully glued together, with all the wrong angles jutting out and filling in the rift she couldn't hide. Jem stared at her curiously. She solemnly nodded.
"Definitely like meeting a puppy."
YOU ARE READING
Blunt
Short Story"For I am a blunt edge, the dull side that is of a deadly weapon; yet still, I can cut through the waves in an odd sense." -Forgive and Take- "Like a progressive evolution of a semi-completed music score, our hands reach out of the nebula. We pictur...
