Eddy to Eddy

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

“Today is Thursday? Are you certain?” The blue of her eyes that I had always associated with the clear warmth of the long gone sun-filled skies of my youth turned cold and penetrating. Having gone through similar confusion moments ago, I couldn't fault her.

Giving her my assurances, I approached the counter check in hand. She glanced at a grease splatted calendar next to the register and I saw the moment where her conclusions matched my own. Teeny's lips mouthed voiceless words as she started to sag as if her knees had gone on strike. It was only a reflexive grab on my part that prevented her from collapsing to the floor. I don't mean to say that it was my strength that held her up but rather my touch that brought her to her senses fast enough that she caught herself on the counter with a wince. She didn't stand back up but looked at me from just above the counter's edge and asked in a small voice, “You wouldn't lie to me, would you?”

"Not about this, not even for a lark. Such pranks are for simpletons.”


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