Today’s
Prompt: Kristin Pedersen and Russell Ebert meet before he inherits money. One of
them is killed.
—
Courtesy: creativewritingprompts.com
Word Count: 1,234
My memory of that day is as clear as day.
The waiter’s name was Pedersen and I could tell from the way he looked at me, through me my face didn’t juggle his
memory. Not that I expected it to. I was only, how do they say it, playing my position. He had the same low
haircut. There were a few grays in there but the similarity was good enough for
rock and roll. Same chiseled chin, deep-set eyes just like the high school
picture I acquired. Don’t ask me how.
He walked briskly past me. I reached out
and tugged at the tail of his cheap waiter’s jacket and held on.
“Don’t
you recognize an old friend when you see one?” I said, flashing my winning
smile.
He stopped and turned to face me. “Not like
I can remember everybody and I’ve met hundreds since I started working here.” He
raised his hands, palms facing up, curved his lips and shrugged. “The job.”
I shook my head slowly from side to side.
“It’s that. But I’m not talking yesterday not even last week. I’m talking
years.”
“How
many years are you willing to wager?”
He was taking the bait. Nibbling at it at
the edges, eventually he was going to swallow the line and get stuck.
“I’d
like to think your face got lost in the sea of faces I meet everyday in this room.
Hell, I can’t even recollect faces I came across yesterday besides the regulars,
that is. And here you are taking down memory lane several years from now.”
“1992,”
I said. “We were part of a team.”
“Oh?”
“’92
in high school. Strikes a chord?”
Pedersen ran his fingers through his hair.
There wasn’t much left to explore. The dude was going bald.
“A
football team.”
“I’ll
be darned,” he said.
“Ugh,
ugh.”
“I
still can’t place your face or name. Wait… I think it’s coming back. Ernest,
wasn’t it?”
“Damn
right it is.” I lied. God help whoever the real Ernest is.
Read more here IntShoWriMo 2014
Eneh
Akpan
June
2nd, 2014
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