In the next instant there is a man standing over her. And he is gorgeous (no, seriously--he looks like George Clooney) and smiling as he pulls her up by her sweaty elbow. I'm sorry Miss. I hope Buck here didn't do any permanent damage. (no, seriously--these are the exact words that come out of his mouth).
Now, you tell me: is there truth in fiction? Does life imitate art (always poorly) or is it the other way around?
Does he invite her in, pick the gravel from her palms and bandage her scraped knee? Does he offer a glass of wine to go along with their witty banter? Do they live happily ever after--you know the drill--as they would in a romance novel (or even some place as filled with cliches as say...San Diego)?
or
Does she give a cheery No problem (even as he is turning around and walking away from her, his big black dog bounding along beside him), wipe Old Buck's drool from her face, and wince along the next two miles , trying to convince herself that her tailbone is not broken the whole way home.
1 comment:
K:
you are a lone reed, standing tall, waving firmly in the corrupt sands of commerce.
i look to you and i ask you in a discouraged tone: who are we and where is our audience? replies are few and far, yet you storm ahead slashing the foliage of failure out of your path and you keep writing! you are an inspiration to me and to all! i lag behind, but you go the extra mile!
thanking you for all you do,
J
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