Earlier today, I was waiting outside one of my favorite Manhattan eateries for a business lunch date. Shielding my eyes from a vicious sun glare that seemed to be following me and cursing myself for not being more of a sunglasses-gal--I feel pretentious and phony whenever I don shades--I squinted in search of the person with whom I was to be meeting, sampling his voice against the different people who circulated past me when, suddenly, a gnarled, old man who looked as much like the dark and musty corner of a library as I've seen anyone look like a place before, rushed up to me and asked, "Estelle?" His voice was crackling leaves.
"Um, no. Sorry," I said. He looked at me for a moment longer, confused before sighing and rejoining the steady swells of people, he disappeared.
I wonder what his story was.
10 comments:
He didn't confuse you with Estelle...the escort!!!
har har har? I don't get it.
me neither...
There's a simple balance to that anecdote--it should be an O. Henry short story.
A love he lost a long time ago ... he wonders the streets waiting for her and looking for her. Seeing her in everyone he meets...
*wanders* NOT wonders.
haha.
His lost daughter... he gave her a way when she was a baby because he couldn't take care of her, and then the people disappeared from his sight. Now he's looking for the long lost daughter.
Sigh
Haha, Sabila you should have more open-ended stories like this in your blog posts and let your wildly creative audience finish them. Good ones Sasha and Terra.
thanks...there's truth even behind our made up stories...
I look for you in everyone I see on the street...
Shame you never responded to my message on nasseb dear. Was completely besotted by your writings/musings for some time now. Ah well, such is life.
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