For some reason, we think no one will notice. Because we’re a group. United. As one. For some reason, we think no one will call security. For some reason, we’ve decided to do this, streak through a bustling shopping mall in the middle of the afternoon. Completely naked, except for running shoes. For some reason, we think it’s a good idea. Collectively. When they ask us later, none of us will be able to say whose idea it was because we’ll all think it was ours. Our own original idea. Our own unique idea.
*
For some reason, we watch them, this group of naked people, as they run past us. As we shop at Macy’s, The Gap, Kay Jeweler. We wonder if it’s some kind of prank. We wonder if we should call security. For some reason, though, none of us do. For some reason, we all think someone else will, that maybe someone else knows something that we don’t.
When they ask us later, none of us will be able to say how old they were. We’ll say high school age, college kids, middle-aged adults. And we’ll say they were barefoot, wearing sandals, wearing boots. We’ll say their hair was long, short, blonde, black, red. Ponytails, braids, buzz cuts. When they ask us later, we won’t even be able to agree on whether they were male, female. But even as we argue about the details, we’ll all agree that there was nothing original or unique about them. Nothing that stood out. When they ask us later, we’ll say it was the damndest thing, how they all just looked alike.
Jessica Klimesh is a US-based writer and editor whose creative work has appeared or is forthcoming in Flash Frog, Atticus Review, Cleaver, trampset, Stonecoast Review, and Gooseberry Pie, among others. Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best Microfiction, Best Small Fictions, and Best of the Net. Learn more at jessicaklimesh.com.
No comments:
Post a Comment