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Love Story

By Richard Lapidus

There was a girl in my coffee shop, so I fell in love with her. She was my age, or maybe not. She had long brown hair tied up in two pigtails. The ends of the pigtails exploded like the tops of palm trees, but more so. She didn’t wear jewelry. I wanted to buy her diamonds, but the thought alone made me blush. Some girls don’t want diamonds, after all, and I didn’t have any money, anyway.

I asked her what her name was. She said blue. I asked her whether she’d like a cup of coffee, or maybe a chai tea. She said, “On 9/11.” I didn’t stop. Where she came from? Empathy and sympathy, hanged and hung, lie and lay. Her first pet? The University of Minnesota. Her occupation? Solzhenitsyn. Her hobbies? Podiatrist. Siblings? Doggie style.

And the whole time she smiled at me. I don’t think it was a mocking smile, and I would know. By then, I knew everything about her.

 

 

Richard Lapidus teaches high school English in New York City. He has previously published in Verse, The Iowa Review, and The Georgetown Review.

Photo "Figures Negotiation 1" courtesy of Sanja Gjenero, Zagreb, Croatia.

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