It was beautiful day on planet Earth, and more specifically along the lakeside path in Bayville. But amid the blooming dahlias and honeybees and rainbows, a question occurred to Sylvia. How much of a shake of the dice was it to agree to meet Boris here? His impassive face and taciturn manner didn't square with the pleading text he'd sent her, insisting she join him at the lake because he had something important to ask. "So, what is it?" she murmured. She wasn't sure she wanted to know, but the suspense was a nagging itch.
For a long time she'd felt drawn to Boris, a Russian-accented nobody and yet a peculiar magnet, attractive yet distant, a young man always seeming to be mired in morose Eurasian thoughts. Maybe he was finally ready to crack open? She pictured a dialog balloon over his head that needed to be filled. "What is it?" she repeated, louder this time, allowing insistence to color her tone.
He exhaled a leaden sigh, and stared across the lake, then cleared his throat. "Can I borrow a hundred bucks?"
###
(The bold-faced words are interpreted from the images on Rory's Story Cubes)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment
What's on your mind?