Third fateful encounter.

SIR Studios, San Francisco, February 1977

Recovering from the breakup.

I remember little of the past year: I wept, slept, imploded. Nothing in me wanted to be alive, or knew how hard it would be. I'm 22 and there's a hole in the universe. I've been trying to write it out of me in song.

It's me and my guitar, recording the recent history of being ripped apart. Through the fog, I realise the sound engineer is staring at me. He's a cutie: blond ponytail, blue eyes, beard.

"Want a bassplayer?" He offers a hand. "By the way, I'm Nic."

He knows, now, why I flinched at the name.

Deb, those rock. This:

He knows, now, why I flinched at the name.

especially.

Challenge #28: Fateful Encounters

Luc raised his head from an indifferent contemplation of his wine when Jean LaRoche tapped his shoulder. “May I present Sylvie Buchet? She is only lately of Avencon.”

Courtesy could not be ignored. Luc sketched a bow, accepting the woman’s cool hand. “A pleasure, milady. I am Luc DeLorme.”

“You are widowed, sir?”

“Yes, two years now.” His heart still ached with it.

“I am a widow myself, with two daughters.”

He offered his sympathy by rote, but his mind had raced ahead, to an image of his own small rose, at home alone. Soon, she would need a mother…

Nothing in me wanted to be alive, or knew how hard it would be.

I've known this place well. Those drabbles reach, Deb.

1 The Famous Flower of Serving Men

is in my grubby paw, as we type. Not a bad job getting it here by Amazon, even the .ca version.

Aha! Amy's scene-setting! Somehow, I've lost all ability to make these particular drabbles fictional; they seem to want to come out autobiographical, at least 95% of the time. See Teppy. See Teppy choose categories. See Teppy orchestrating the outlet for my midlife crisis. Memememe!

If you read FFoSM, any of you, and want to review at Amazon, whether you like the book or not? Please do so, and let me know, especially if you've either reviewed the first one or plan on reading and reviewing the third one next year and any future ones. That's the kind of post-publication feedback I treasure and use.

See Teppy. See Teppy choose categories. See Teppy orchestrating the outlet for my midlife crisis. Memememe!

Ah, but *you* suggested this particular category, my dear: deborah grabien "The Great Write Way" Sep 23, 2004 8:11:25 pm PDT

I know, but you called the topic. Last week I languished in outer darkness. this week, I drabble. And will continue to do so.

I know, but you called the topic.

I've bookmarked the posts where people suggest a topic, and I'm trying to work my way through them, more or less in the order that they were suggested.

Tep, you do realise that I'm not suggesting that there's anything deliberate about the orchestration? Or anything bad?

Hell, woman, it's a frickin' lifesaver. Or at least a sanity-saver, especially last month.

Fateful encounters:

He assessed her from behind as she stood beside him, leaning in towards the bar, ordering her drink in low, conspiratorial tones. "Scotch and soda," he heard above the hubbub. He smiled at the thought of this little thing, wrapped in lace and frailty, drinking anything less sweet than appletinis.

Suddenly he found himself staring into her smile instead of the nape of her neck. And a lovely smile it was, the pink tip of her tongue curling against the pearls of her teeth. He read familiarity in her lips: familiarity with men in places like this, playing age-old games.

Tep, you do realise that I'm not suggesting that there's anything deliberate about the orchestration? Or anything bad?

Oh, Lord yes! I was trying to be teasing, but electrons are so very bad at conveying tone of voice sometimes.