A place for thought.


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The drip hit right in the middle of her head, but she didn’t move. She stared straight ahea like nothing had happened. Her blue eyes sparkled with presence, darting around like trapped wild birds but her head was still as stone. Another drip, dead center once more, four seconds after the drip before, and the one before that, still her head did not acknowledge the drips’ existence. Her blonde hair had been carefully parted in the middle and the moisture formed a line between the two banks of hair, which after twenty seconds more (and five drips more), became a tiny, slow moving river that flowed to the front of her head and then quickly down her forehead. The river followed the bridge of her nose and then stalled at the tip, and waited. Now every four seconds the water on the tip of her nose would drip. A drip onto the center of her head, and then two seconds would pass, and a drip would fall off her nose, another two seconds and a drip would land centered on her head. A drip every two seconds now: one to the head, one off the nose, one to the head, one off the nose, and still she showed no concern. A full minute passed from the time the first drip fell from her nose, a second minute. Her eyes stopped darting and focused on me, watching her. She stared at me while I counted seconds between drips off her nose, always four.   Another minute passed. I felt a scream start to form at the base of my neck, something needed to be done, I moved from my chair and walked next to the table where she sat. Her blue eyes followed me.

“May I sit here?” I said with a wave at the chair across the small round table from her.

“Yes,” she said without moving her head. A drip fell from her nose.

“Are you okay?” I asked as soon as I had sat down.

“No,” she answered with a little more volume than was necessary.

“What’s wrong?” I asked using my best soft, non-threatening voice.

“I’m very mad!” she said keeping her jaw tight and talking from between her teeth.

“Would you tell me why?” I asked.

“Why should I tell you?” she demanded. A drip fell off her nose.

“I’m just concerned,” I answered. “Maybe there is something I could do to help.”

“There isn’t,” she said but her eyes started to water.

“Try me,” I pushed one more time planning to go back to my own table if she did not share.

“I’m mad because every four seconds a drip hits me on the top of the head and two seconds after the drip hits my head a drip falls off my nose. It’s not very pleasant,” she said all this without moving her jaws or her head.

“Why don’t you move out of the way of the drip?” I asked. “It’s what I would do.”

“I would rather the drip moved,” she said matter of factly. “I was here first.”

“It’s still raining outside. I don’t think the drip is going to go away for sometime now.”

“We’ll see,” She said. I stood and nodded a good bye. She did not nod or say anything but she did follow me with her sparkling blue eyes as I made my way back to my table. As I lowered myself onto my original chair a drip fell off her nose.


Author: assumptionisfaith

david blankenship is the author of three books "Randolph W. Owens, missing on Bright Island" (a science fiction novel), "Herb" (a children's book), "Jack's second Life" (contemporary fiction) and several short stories. The books are for sale on Amazon's Kindle and published in paperback by Create Space.

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