After the club closes, floor sticky with vodka and staff too jaded to care, we step outside and wait while Anouk lights up another Lucky Strike. She sucks it hard, skinny smooth cheeks turning concave with the effort, one leg effortlessly propped against the wall behind her, ankle turned to perfection. She makes a big show of not noticing the guys who walk past trying to catch her eye.
Out in the night, a few streets away, an ambulance starts to wail. It’s not even a notable addition to the quiet hum of the city – it’s something that should’ve been there all along. I roll my eyes and glance at Anouk, but she’s looking straight ahead, eyes on an antiques shop, fingers stiff around her cigarette. Furniture hunkers down in the dark window like a sleeping herd.
The baked air from the day still lingers between the close-set buildings, which lean down and share secrets above our heads. Even with bare legs and arms, and even at 4am, it’s still just warm enough to drape ourselves artistically over their feet in a way that says we don’t care and we want you to know it. Anouk does this best, but I give it a shot and am rewarded with an approving stare from a man in a beige jacket as he smooches past. He smirks, and I curl into a half smile. One dimple is all, so keep walking.
In the window of the brocanterie over the road, Anouk is a nymph – a silvered study of pretend womanhood, exhaling sensuous curls of smoke that last three, four, five, six seconds.
I meet my eyes. Shining and artfully smudged in the forgiving window that nevertheless won’t transform me as it does Anouk. We have an agreement, the window, the streetlights and I. Look once, be fooled. Don’t look twice.
Beneath my feet, the gritty sand that lives between the small cobbles of the city, even though we’re far from the sea. In front, just a tired girl and a junk shop.
Terrific writing.
Thank you, Helena – that’s so kind :) x
Nice. Almost everything works in this for me except for two tiny things: first, the word “humps.” The initial meaning that comes to mind is “humping” since hump is the verb in that sentence–and it threw off the flow of my reading. It’s difficult for furniture to hump like sleeping animals. They’d be awake if they were humping. However, this could be the word you’d like to use since the whole piece is about sex or being sexy. :o) I do love the image of the sleeping herd, so maybe a different verb would work better for me there? Hunch, maybe? since it has a similar sound and meaning. But like everything in writing, the usual disclaimer–this is only my opinion.And I’m not sure if you’re interested in opinions or not. Please let me know if I’ve stepped over the line.
Second, the words “to perfection” are used twice for such a short piece. The first use sounds original, the second no longer gives the same feel. Thanks for a lovely read!
Hi Jilanne,
You’re definitely not over the line, don’t worry – always happy to have readers who are thoughtful enough for feedback! And I definitely appreciate yours – the ‘to perfection’ is a typo, which is shameful coming from a proof-reader but forgiveable coming from a tired one, and the ‘hump’ issue (which has made me laugh!) was more…I don’t know, maybe an experiment? I wanted to evoke the shape of sheets thrown over furniture, and I liked ‘hump’ as it reminds me of cattle, buffalo etc. But, if it invokes sex, then best to change it – wasn’t the intention!
Lx
I like your changes. And I’m relieved you aren’t offended. I never know if other writers want any analysis of their work or if they are sending it out into the world solely for others’ enjoyment. Nice work!
No, no offence taken at all – you were giving exactly the kind of advice I’d have given myself if I’d been less tired! x
I disagree with Jilanne. I think “hunkers” works with furniture. It suggests size and something almost animalistic. I like the uncertainty about the sex of the protagonist. Nice job!
Oops, sorry Hugh – that was post edit. Previous was humps or humped. I think hunkers is better, on reflection – was just so sleepy last night!
And thank you, again, for noticing something I hadn’t about the piece. You’re a good and regular reminder that, in many ways, the author’s intentions don’t matter once writing it out there. I love that you see something new in mine almost every single time.
Hey, this IS good!
Smoothly flows from start to finish and has a poetic feel to it. I love the idea of the buildings sharing secrets. Imagining that smoke and the guys walking past, it’s sort of…dejecting? Not a bad thing, it’s unglamourous and hints a modern coldness. I tried to summon similar feelings in “Clam.”
I’m looking forward to reading more of these when I’m not so busy. Thank you again :)