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Stupid question: (e: stupid answered) I'm in like Gershwin. Double May Care fucked around with this message at 18:32 on Mar 26, 2013 |
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Mar 26, 2013 10:31
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| # ¿ Dec 12, 2024 04:23 |
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I have no idea what I am doing and hope that this fact is not conveyed through the text. Please, by all means, tear this to shreds if necessary. (For your listening pleasure.) A Young Man In Control (1042 words) He wants to move the moon. Like many romantic male leads, Sam wants the scene to be perfect. The location is suitable: in the open air of the patio, away from those grinding delinquents inside the meeting hall where his senior prom is supposed to be. He made sure to put on a silky baby blue tie in case she noticed, which she did. He wore his nicest black and white suit and wanted a little coordination with his date. Uncomfortable as it may have been, Sam observed Lily at school: eavesdropping on her conversations, being in the right place to walk her path, and keeping note of the interactions in his sketch pad. He didn't dare let his portraits reach the public eyes--the dignity he has left is well intact--but his mind kept a vast repository of faces for him to put to paper in his room nights when he was cut off from everyday mental clout. There he would draw her once or twice a week, trying to perfectly encapsulate what makes a Lily. Should her hair be let down to fall over her shoulders or tied into a bun? Should her blouse be yellow or blue? Sam took the direction of his personal freeze frame and printed it with such detail that he almost felt ashamed to be creating this vestige for his eyes only. That was why, for the first time, the illustration that came closest to perfection by that Saturday night is in the back right pocket of his slacks, ready to present to her as soon as she comes down the staircase to meet him. This is going to be the night Sam makes his feelings known. But t his isn't how he pictured it at all. Nature commanded tonight to be cloudy with no moon in sight. It rained recently, making the metal furniture wet in order to leave no dry spot to sit and discuss Sam's drawing after his and Lily's first passionate embrace. The situation is making him want to lasso the moon and drag it out of the clouds for the spectacle of their first kiss. Lily is in the restroom, quickly checking her makeup and hair. Are her roots showing through the blonde bun on her head? Is her baby blue strapless dress exposing too much? How much of the matching nail polish has chipped off since dinner? She doesn't want to make a bad impression on Sam. After all, he's starting to blossom into his own despite his social setbacks, and even those can be fixed by having a prom date. Otherwise she wouldn't have asked him in the first place. He did come through with a ride to the hall and offered to pay the bill at that Italian restaurant. He might not be the silent creep other boys have been calling him. Lily exits the restroom and steps outside onto the staircase where Sam is eagerly waiting for the scene to play as he envisioned it. Enter Lily on top level. She smiles warmly noticing me and proceeds downstairs. I watch breathlessly. We meet near the staircase, one pace apart. I offer for the two of us to dance to the muffled ballad. She accepts my hand and we take position, my hands on her waist and hers on my shoulders. So it proceeds with the two of them. It is during this ritual that Sam's moon breaks through the clouds to shine on them. This is as perfect as he can make it. At least, until Sam thinks about the many ways that this moment could be more perfect. Blue just isn't her color. I can tell she's not a blonde, so why hide it? I don't understand why she can't wear her hair down like she usually does. Where are her glasses? Her eyes just aren't as dark without glasses. I don't know about that tan. It seems unhealthy. While Sam distracts himself with his mind's eye, Lily steps closer to break the distance between them, each hand on a half of his back, her head resting on his shoulder. There he could gently step her back and go in for the kiss, but he's much too occupied to try that. She sustains her patience, eyes on the ground to count red bricks and make sure not to step on his feet or the end of her purple dress. Lily examines her deep purple nail polish for any wear. She removes her glasses and observes them up-close for scratches, occasionally sweeping her dark brown bangs out from in front of her eyes. She marvels at the way her skin has faded from the cold of night. Lily plants an arm on Sam's chest and separates the pair. The time right, Sam timidly remarks, I have something to show you. He removes the folded sheet of paper from his back pocket, unravels it and reveals it to date. She grasps the drawing between her purple fingernails and examines it--a blonde woman with blue eyes in a blue dress. Lily's eyes widen, her jaw becomes more heavy, and the paper slips down between her pale fingers. Sam notices her strife and asks Lily, Is something wrong? This reminder makes her tighten her grip on the portrait to the point of creasing the page, and alternate her vision between this woman and Sam's dumbfound expression. With each pass the glimmer on the purple thumbnail grasping the page grows more and more jarring. Finally she thrusts the sketch into the heart of its creator and runs off as best as she can, up the stairs and out of his sight. Sam watches her go, flabbergasted by her reaction. Is this what all girls feel when presented something like this? He releases a stuttered sigh and flips the drawing back to face him. He thought he had perfected it: Lily's beautiful brown eyes and hair, her silky purple dress and fingernails, all set against her radiant pale skin. After a brief deliberation Sam slips the paper back into his pocket, adjusts his deep purple tie, and chalks up another failure to find the girl of his dreams as he walks back into the meeting hall alone.
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Mar 29, 2013 22:46
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