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“I’m in no hurry he said, rolling out his newspaper across his knees like a blanket. What troubles you?
He always spoke that way, as if this was a scene from a western and he was smoking a corn pipe in a rocking chair. There was nothing to rock on in the Park and the bench was slightly damp and green from yesterdays rain, and all the rain in all the years before that.
Aint nothing really. I reply, folding myself into his scene.
It’s just.
Ah ah, never just, if it was just you wouldn’t need to talk about it and I could enjoy my newspaper in peace.
I wrote a message and she left me unread and I’m not sure..
Unread? How do you know?
It’s on my phone.
Oh a text.
No a message, on IG.
I what?
Instagram.
A telegram, can you still send those?
No Instagram, it’s like text and pictures.
It was no use, this wasn’t working?
What’s in the news today I asked with the smallest sigh I could manage.
Well, he said, turning the large page of his Paper. There are 3 things actually.
I waited, he often started slowly.
1. She saw the message and doesn’t want to talk. 2. She saw the message and wants to talk but doesn’t want you to know how much. And 3. She didn’t see the message.
He looked at me over his glasses with what he thought was a grin but looked more like a tired smirk. He was annoying at times.”
