Idea
William Aarnes “We might as well kiss,” his one high-school date offered, “but don’t get any dumb ideas.” The woman he called “Mom” raised him on her own: “The rat seemed eager as me-- assembled the crib, painted your room— but within a year sniffed out a more attractive idea and ran with her.” “You were your father’s idea,” his birth mother wrote in the email explaining she’d rather not meet; “pregnancy changed his mind.” “Any correlation between marriage and your idea of marriage,” his wife of nineteen years told him in counseling, “is purely coincidental.” Now he worries about his daughter’s fiancé, who has the habit of exuding, “You have no idea!” Inkling An inkling has little standing in court but in church when the congregation rises to stumble its way through an unfamiliar hymn an inkling can cause the woman three pews in front of you to raise her fingers to her earlobe and then turn to meet your stare. You’re new to this worship but have some hope that if she looks back again neither the man to her left nor the girls to her right will have an inkling whether you’ve blinked or winked. Seated again, you witness and wait. The woman leans to whisper to her taller daughter. During the prayer the girl glances back, an inkling of worry in her merry eyes. |
About the author:
William Aarnes has work forthcoming in FIELD, Weave, and Squalorly. |