Today’s thirty minute fiction write for your entertainment: “Try” I’m posting these daily, with just a little editing, for fun and practice. They are not fully thought out pieces, most likely ramble and go nowhere, but I’m having fun and want to share them with you as I go!
Here we go. Thirty minutes of words on try.
Try. Try, again.
Try?! That’s your advice? Try?
One does not try to jump off a cliff or get hit by a car. One does not try to perform open-heart surgery. And one does try to…
Try to what? I don’t know.
Try not. Do or do not. That Yoda guy. But we all try things? Right? I always thought that was a silly saying. I try new foods…sometimes. I try my hand at new skills. I try to be nice. I try to understand and fail miserably.
Try. Ok…let’s see.
I paste a smile on my face as I walk into the room but instantly think better of it. A neutral look would be better. Don’t bring attention to yourself. Act natural. This is what people do. They walk into bars, sit down, and order a drink. But this is no bar, it’s a coffee shop. Hmm…
A quick scan of the room shows me there aren’t too many people, plenty of places to sit and watch…I mean, relax while I have a cup of coffee. How does this work? Oh, yes, approach the counter.
“Hello! What can I get for you?” Cheerful. Noted. Sounds positive, non-threatening.
I stumble with the use of the voice. “Umm…” Cough. Heavy breath in. Ok, got it. “Yeah. Um…I’ll have a large black coffee.”
The barista gives a strange looking smirk, I think it’s called. Does it know? I mean, does she know? I think I’m not sure. They all look alike really. “Ok. Room for cream?”
I stumble again. Their language is complicated by emotion and vagueness. On top of that, they don’t seem to listen well. Their communication system really needs updating.
I pause to think, wonder if I have used the wrong words, then realize it’s one of their comprehension gaps, “No, thank you.”
Turning to take a step away, I hear behind me, “That will be three dollars and fifteen cents, please.”
My brain struggles to decipher the words and behavior. Shit. I knew it was too soon to try this. I should have kept a shade and watched from a high corner, or at least remained invisible to move through the motions one more time before attempting to be seen.
“Cash or card?”
Oh! Yes! I got it! “Oh, of course. I’m sorry, my mind wandered.” To another time and place where I didn’t have to try so hard to communicate. Yikes. Waving my hand gently before me, connecting my mind with hers, I create the memory of my payment, and she responds, “Thank you!” She hands me the cup.
I know. It’s cheating. If I want the real experience, I really should have been better prepared. But rather than abort the whole effort, I try to keep going by fudging where I need to.
Taking the cup from her hand, I smile. “You have the most beautiful earlobes.” In my studies, I’ve read they love this kind of compliment, but it seems to fall flat, or I’m misinterpreting the facial expressions. Geez! Why is this so hard?!
Laughing, “I’m sorry. I mean earrings! My English. I mix the words.”
I’m not waiting for a response. I quickly turn away and move toward an empty table near the windows.
As I sit with my back toward the bar, so that I can’t be distracted by the human chatter, I try once again to observe in peace. My gaze lands on the dense foliage outside the floor to ceiling windows and the tiny, winged creatures hopping on two feet beneath them.
Now this is interesting. I hear nor feel anything from these simple creatures. They hop contentedly among each other, pecking the ground and pushing each other aside. Now and then, one spreads its brown wings and flies away, only to be replaced by another. The new arrival begins the same pecking action, at what I cannot see. The particles are two small for my eyes. They do seem so much less hostile than the humans behind me, from which I still hear the discussion of my mistake in nouns a moment ago.
I take a sip of the coffee I procured and settle in to watch the “birds” again.
There’s a hand on my shoulder, not physically, the sense of being brought to task descends on me. “How many times must you read about this, make the attempt, and fail like this? It’s like you’re not even trying.”
Maybe I just don’t want to succeed. I think these birds are far more promising.
Read yesterday’s post prompted from the word “ruins,” “NaNoWriMo: But It’s NOT a Novel, It’s…”