In his wallet, he carries business cards, coal black, with no text, no nothing, on either side. Give me a call he says. Don’t forget to reach out he says. I’ll be waiting he says. All night long he says. For days he says. I’ll never forget you he says. Never he says. I wonder what the world would be like if we weren’t here he says. It would be exactly the same except without the smell of pancakes he says. I’m from the tropics he says. I race golf carts through avocado trees he says. I keep one hand on the wheel, one hand in my pocket he says. I have this missing finger I sawed off with vodka he says. It’s embarrassing he says. You’re embarrassed by things too he says. I can tell he says. I can see it in your eyes he says. Maybe you should work on that he says. You’re sabotaging your potential with all of that embarrassment he says. Have a chip he says. These are extra crispy he says.
When someone asks him questions he looks up and hums. When someone says hello he spins and grunts. Last week he was seen lassoing bicyclists with shoelaces. This week he’s walking sideways. I think about you he says. Mostly with your pants up he says. I’m not interested in people with their clothes off he says. It’s too complicated he says. There’s too much skin he says. I’ve got to get going he says. It’s late and there isn’t a way for me to stop the night from coming he says. Let me get a good look at your face he says. You’re relatively handsome he says. Here, take the rest of my chips he says. I’m getting too fat he says. I could spot you from far away he says. Maybe you should be in the movies he says. Try not to forget about me he says. I have umber eyes and dimples he says. Most people remember my dimples before my eyes he says. They’re deep he says. Especially when I smile he says. Which doesn’t happen very often he says. Because I’m not amused he says. Things make me sick he says. Most things he says. Litter boxes he says. Crooked street signs he says. Myself he says. I broke the mirror he says. It’s better to keep myself away from myself he says.
EDITOR’S NOTE: This story was selected from entries submitted to our Creative Challenge Series #1: First Sentences, which required that the first sentence in the text must be used as given. Read other Creative Challenge winners. To find out how to participate, go to Creative Challenges.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Felicity Fenton is a designer and radio host in Portland, Oregon. Her multidisciplinary work (words, performance, installation) has been showcased in public and private spaces around the globe.