Saturday, November 10, 2007

A Short Short, Written September 13, 2007

The last time I saw him, I knew that I would never see him again. He looked at me, shook his head, and said, "Lola, you are on your own. Have a nice life." And that was it. He just turned and left, walked down the sidewalk away from me, not even once glancing back to see if I was crying. I wasn't crying, of course. Crying is for the weak. I am strong. People have left me before, and I've found my way. I don't need anyone to babysit me.

When he left and I couldn't make him out in the crowd, I turned to walk the other way down Dogwood Avenue, passing the stores and restaurants, hearing people talk and laugh, ice chiming in tea glasses, but I didn't turn to look. Not once. I wasn't even walking with my head down. I held my head high, my back straight, and I walked that avenue the way my momma taught me, like a WOMAN. And a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle, so the song says. I'm no fish, but I'll admit, a bicycle would be nice right now.

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