The full moon rises slowly, losing its yellow hue and appears to shrink as it slowly climbs the sky on an October night. The wind blows slightly causing me to shiver. As I walk towards my car, I remove my keys from my right pocket and search for the black one. I find my car parked on the fourth floor of the parking garage a block south of thirteen-story Pound Hall. I enter the car and start the engine and heat. Linkin’ Park is turned up and slight rattling can be heard from the ancient factory-installed speakers of my blue Ford Escort. Now, I drive.
Seven minutes later, I parallel park on the block past Crescent Moon. In every college town, small and quirky coffee shops are scattered about. This particular one resides in a remodeled warehouse which is now home to the coffee-shop and a large dance room. A little bell rattles as I open the door and glance around. Amy is working behind the counter, as expected, cleaning up some of the dishes and other messes created during the 13 hours the shop has been open. To the left, the open room extends filled with some round tables, high tables, chairs, and couches. Six people are scattered about, studying or talking. Twenty feet back from the entrance, stairs rise up a few feet leading to the dance floor. I walk up to the coffee counter.
“Hey, Cal!”
“Hey, Amy.”
I apologized for not returning her phone call because I hadn’t gotten it until she was already at work.
“Oh, that’s okay. I just kept calling people on my list till I talked to someone who could come in.” Chase and Webb were sitting at two small tables at the far left of the room. “Thanks for coming in anyway, though.”
Amy was wearing her Crescent Moon logo t-shirt and apron along with some khakis. Her wavy, golden-brown hair hung down past her shoulder, and she smiled, but a hint of work-induced tiredness was present.
I let her continue working and went and sat down at the table with Chase. Greetings were exchanged and shortly Amy bought chase a drink he had ordered.
Amy remembered, “Oh, don’t let me forget the cookies I have for you guys in my car.”
Chase and Webb were studying the Bible in preparation for the groups of men they meet with weekly. After a couple minutes of sitting there, I pulled my Bible out of my backpack. I had also brought materials to study for class, but opted not to read those at the time. I turned to Galatians and began reading it distractedly and unfocused.
Amy was near the door sorting through newspapers and separating the old ones to be recycled. Something nudged me into remembrance, and I walked over to tell her.
“Did you hear that Aaron and Jamie got engaged this weekend?”
A smile widened as her face cheered to the news and small giggles left her mouth.
“No way! That’s so awesome!”
I told her the few other details I knew about it and enjoyed watching Amy’s excitement. We briefly discussed the realities of growing older and the many engagements currently occurring among friends. After a few minutes of talking, I went back to Chase�s table.
The discussion with Chase and Webb focused sporadically on God, Christianity, and college football. Webb’s bald head and developing beard were briefly discussed as well as Chase returning to Arkansas early the next morning to visit his ailing grandmother. Moments of silence also entered as occasional studying occurred. Time proceeded this way for the next two hours.
Halfway through the two hours there, the shop officially closed and the other four patrons left. By midnight, Amy had finished cleaning. The four of us walked to Amy’s car and she gave us each some cookies in Ziploc bags. Webb’s car held Chase and him. They left first to return to the house they are currently roommates in, then Amy left, and I followed her back to the large parking lot across the street from Pound Hall. She grabbed some things she had brought back from her home after Fall Break and also handed me a pile of clothes to carry inside. We walked inside together. After reaching my floor, I handed her the clothes and said “good night.” She returned the parting.
The night continued for an hour more as I wasted my eyesight on an information-age computer screen. Then I brushed my teeth, flossed, and went to sleep.
Cal~
Technical comments first:
In the first line the word appearing should be appears to keep with the verb tense you started out with.
And now the rest of my thoughts:
I like this story. I think because it contains such familiar elements. It has a comfortable, easy feel to it. It’s almost like talking to you, only a bit more involved than that because it contains some of your thoughts as well. are you going to continue revising it? hope you do.
Rachael
“Did you heart that Jamie…..” should be “hear”.
“till” should probably by “until”
“ziplock” bags are actually “ziploc”
I agree with the other comment. It does have a comfortable feel to it. Continue developing the story line.
Okay, I know it seems ridiculous to comment on this 9 months after-the-fact, but I can’t resist. Cal, you’re good at detail. You’re good at picking up on the small thins and adding them to the story, which makes it more interesting. Your style is cool. But I don’t see a point, a focus, a reason. Why are you writing this? What is it that you want us to understand that we didn’t before? You paint a scene, but then don’t go anywhere with it. Take me on a journey through your thoughts. Ultimately, I should feel satisfied. The current ending leaves me thinking, “And then…. What?” Is that really all? I don’t think so. I know you well enough to know that there’s more to what you’re feeling than what you’ve put down. Every detail that you include should have a purpose for being there. It should support the “bottom line” that you’re trying to convey. If it doesn’t, then take it out. I know that you really enjoy writing, and I encourage you to keep writing, keep improving, and to keep sharing your writings with others. I want to read this again once you’ve gone back over it. It has a lot of potential, and so do you!
Cora, part of my intent with this story was to utilize my writing skills and to create a detailed setting through words that provoke images. I wanted to provide a snapshot of an occurance in my life. It’s always been easier for me to write from personal experience than to contrive a story.
At the time, I’d considered writing other stories to provide a series of snapshots. I haven’t done this. I’ve got various reasons: it’s hard to decide which moments to write about, which characters to stress, etc. As far as my thoughts go, I know I didn’t reveal all that was going on in my head at the time. It’s hard to do, and sometimes best not to do. And sometimes aspects of it are best left to be hinted at and fleshed out in the subtleties.
I like hints. I especially like it when people notice then. You already knew that.