Have You Ever Been in Love?

"Son, have you ever been in love?"

The old man next to me at the bar had a careworn yet gentle face. He looked like someone who might have seen much hardship but had let it pass over him like waves over a sandy shore. Only his eyes bore witness that time had done anything more than glance carelessly in his direction.

I looked straight into those eyes full of history and quickly looked away.

"Have you ever been in love?" he repeated.

"I once thought I was."

His eyes expected me to continue.

"But now I know I was wrong."

I tried to return to my drink but those eyes followed me and wouldn't let me off so easily.

So I let my mind run back to that summer when I thought love had found me.

* * *

"I didn't have half a clue back then. The first time someone made my heart lose its tempo I thought I'd found it." My mind came back to the bar and I realized I’d been gushing for at least a quarter of an hour. I laughed at myself and at my past naïveté.

"It was all so overwhelming back then. But it won't happen again. The next time will be the last time, because now I know what I'm looking for." My thumb ran over the fold of my badge. "You can't last long at my job without being able to find what you're looking for." I turned back to my companion, half-raising my glass in a toast to love and the past, but there was no one there.

I had to smile. The man was gone and had left me to pay for his drink. I didn't much mind.

Posted by Gregory Taylor

Brandon's Phone

The woman in a dress like a warm cafe latte was wholly immune to the ravages of rain and mud, or so Brandon thought. From time to time, as she glanced up from her book – probably Dostoevsky or something else suited to her cool sophistication – he caught a glimpse of dark brown eyes beneath a cascade of curls. Perhaps it was wishful thinking or Brandon's wayward life spent in classical studies, but she looked divinely Hellenic: a venerable statue dressed in youth and flesh and blood. Brandon was a timid man, uncomfortable with open staring, so his glances were few and furtive: the bounce of her hair as she shook back a stray curl, the delicate pressure of a ruby fingernail against her cheek, the half-smile as she caught him looking in her direction. The red tincture over Brandon's face belied his best efforts to conceal how that alluring dazzle of teeth had stopped his heart. He stumbled to his feet, grabbed for his belongings and bundled out the door. Had he been in my position he would have seen Elena's eyes follow him down the sidewalk and felt her sigh of regret from across the store. As I made my own way out of the store I handed her a phone – left behind in Brandon's precipitous exit.

"Take it. He'll be calling."

Posted by Gregory Taylor

Oh my Heart

Do not lie, oh my heart, and break my trust.
When love stands not before me
I need you, heart, to warn me.
Do not lie, oh my heart, unless you must.

Posted by Gregory Taylor

Happy Birthday

The balloons tied to the mailbox would have read Happy Birthday a few days ago. By now, though, even the Mylar had leaked enough helium that the envelope was no longer lighter than the surrounding air. It swung upside-down next to a cluster of shrunken heads buffeted by the twisting winds – latex balloons, the once-gay coloring making their current posture all the more grotesque.

Posted by Gregory Taylor