Free Write -- A Man

 

Today's Free Write's prompt came from the book Absolution by Alice McDermott. "His frame suggests a lifetime of manual labor but he seems to be a snappy dresser in a shirt and tie."

D-L's Free Write

I am not a stalker, but when I saw him, I became one.

His face and body structure screamed a life of manual labor. However, his clothes were snappy, expensive.

I pretended I was trying to decide between types of canned soup, so I could look into his shopping cart. If he were a laborer, he wouldn't have all those exotic fruits and veggies. His cheeses were from the gourmet cheese counter.

Enough, I thought and went to the checkout line. He was two people behind me.

I saw him in the parking lot.

No Tesla.

No Mercedes. 

He got into a mud-splattered truck with a dented door.

I decided to follow him through the streets of Cambridge onto the Mass Pike. He continued West, but I quit at the 128 Exit.

I guess I'm no good at stalking, but 17 months later, I'm still wondering about him.

D-L has had 17 fiction and non fiction books published. Check out her website at:. https://.dlnelsonwriter.com

 

Julia's Free Write

 “Really, I have to put on a suit and tie?”.

Tim turned to his wife, the expression on his face reflecting his total disagreement with the idea.

“OK, but I only have the suit you bought me when we celebrated our 25^th wedding anniversary.”

A lifetime of working as a logger in the woods showed in his stature, in the compactness of his body. Fortunately, he had inherited his father’s build; a build only perfected by his labors.

Twenty minutes later he turned up ready to go, nattily dressed, shaved and combed, looking just as he should.

After all, it’s not every day that you are going to meet your future in-laws, the doctor and his wife.

Julia has written and taken photos all her life and loves syncing up with friends.  Her blog can be found: https://viewsfromeverywhere.blogspot.com/  

 

 

Rick's Free Write

He stood in front of my desk, clutching a flat cap firmly in both hands, as if to steady his nerves. His hands featured dark lines, the kind one gets from dirty work. Farmhand? Grease monkey? And yet he was dressed in what appeared to be a new off-the-rack sport coat, chinos, corporate pale blue dress shirt, and paisley tie.

I offered him a chair, but he declined, preferring to stand, occasionally shifting his weight from one foot to the other as the interview proceeded.

He had no family, he said, so he could work long hours, odd hours.

I asked about the gap in his resumé and he mumbled something about being away. It was an odd answer but I did not pursue it. I was hiring a grocery stock clerk, not an accountant.

Then I noticed, peeking from under the end of his shirt sleeve, what looked like a tattoo. No, a number. What kind of number?

He tugged the shirt down when he sensed me looking. Then he turned to head for the door.

“Wait,” I called. “We hire ex-felons here. Will you take a chance on us?”

He turned back around, a tear in his eye, and extended his hand.

As we shook, he noticed the partial number peeking from under my shirt sleeve.

 Rick Adams is an aviation journalist and publisher of www.aviationvoices. com