She was waiting for him when he opened the car door, sitting in the passenger seat smoking a cigarette.
“Hey! What are you doing here? This is my car!”
She turned to face him and smiled, then exhaled and tossed the still-burning cigarette out the partly opened window. “Oh, hi. I’ve been waiting for you.” Her hair was long and black and curly. Her bright red lipstick matched her jacket.
“Apparently! But how did you get in?”
“You don’t get it, do you? I’ve always been here. Well, not in this car, but sometimes…”
“Did you just toss a lit cigarette out the window? What are you trying to do, start a fire?”
“I thought you’d never get it. Yes, actually.” She yawned and sat up straight. “Hey, do you have something to eat? Or are you taking me somewhere?”
“Taking you somewhere? Are you kidding? I don’t even know who you are!”
“Oh, I think you do, but never mind. Oh, well!”
And with that she opened the door and started to get out. The sun was going down, and he was suddenly concerned. Where would she go and how would she get there? The parking lot was empty, save for his ten-year-old Corolla. When he looked again, the door was closed, and he was all alone.
John Hamilton Farr lives at 7,000 feet in Ranchos de Taos, New Mexico, U.S.A. As New York Times best-selling author James C. Moore tells it, John is “a man attuned to the world who sees it differently than you and I and writes about it with a language and a vision of life that is impossible to ignore.” This JHFARR.COM site is the master writing archive. To email John, please see CONTACT INFO on .png)
You will finish this piece, will you not?
You can’t leave your readers like this!
Maybe I’ll finish it.
Best,
Catherine
I want to live it. If I could finish it, I’d be typing from my island.
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