jar on the shelf

“But then I guess it doesn’t matter. If she’s that way with everyone, then what makes me so special? How am I any different?”

Marcus’ eyes lit up like the end of his $3 cigar. Bought from Mickey’s corner store only hours before. He peered out at the golden hour skyline and exhaled deeply as he gathered his response.

“You know what your problem is?” he asked her, not taking his eyes from the sun, “You want people to put you in a glass jar up on the shelf and tell you how wonderful you are. But that just isn’t gonna happen. And then you think you’ll find the one and they’ll be able to do that same goodman thing - hold you up to the light, preserve you in this untouchable place. I hate to break it, but the truth is, no one can do that for you - not really. You have to be able to do that for yourself. And the way I see it, you shouldn’t really ever be stuck in jars or up on shelves to begin with. I imagine it’d just get in the way of you living your life.” 

The cool blanket of silence fell over them both as his friend’s eyes met his at the horizon line.

And the only thing to fall from either of their mouths for the rest of the evening were lazy puffs of smoke, pulled from a pair of $3 cigars bought from Mickey’s corner store. 

-b

September 23, 2020