Tuesday, March 27, 2012

prepositional rebel on the banks of the Mississippi

Tunica Cutoff, MS


Sharon had found a job twenty years ago. She had started on the floor of the chicken plant, didn't mind the work so much and had eventually made her way up to an office on the third floor. Human resources was what the gold plate on the door said and she liked the thought of that. Ambiguous enough to allow for creativity but not so much that called for accounting which she felt was a bore.

Funny, she told Mark, ain't nobody ever called Amy a bore. That girl is insane. Do you know what she said the other day?

Mark looked up from his work. He was preparing a poster for a new employee fitness program Sharon had thought up. He wished he had remembered his ear buds. Sometimes he wore them just to make her think he was listening to music. Otherwise, she wouldn't hush. He liked Amy though. She was a hoot so if Sharon wanted to talk about her then he'd have a go. What did Amy say?

She put the tip of the pen in her mouth, looked at the light above, smirked and said, Well. Never mind. I don't think I was supposed to say. She told me not to tell.

He hated this game, Okay, and went back to work.

She knew he wanted to know, saw how he looked at Amy, remembered Eugene had given her the same looks. Though that was years ago. Mark was going to have to act more interested than that, stop being so aloof. She waited as long as she could, checked her email, made a call but he played his part. Never did he look up from his work and seem to care. Four hours later she gave up.

Mark was glad she had left. He could always feel the weight of what she wanted to know, would look over and see her get busy when he refused to play her game. Most the time, like so many other older women, she was trying to fix him up though he never had any problem with the ladies. He just didn't spend all his time talking about it. Plus, at thirty-five he wasn't married and that fact seemed to frustrate them to no end.

Amy walked in the door, looked at Sharon's desk then at Mark, Hey dude. Whatup? Where'd Sharon go?

He stared at his work, She left early. Something about dinner with Eugene. I think they have a date at the fish camp.

That's all it took. He knew it too. She was sitting there when he looked up. Her red hair pulled back in a pony tail, she sported freckles and a nice smile. She leaned back in the chair, crossed her legs in a skirt, Got big plans this weekend?

Nope. Anything happening? 





For any of you in the listening area who are all about some great music of the North Mississippi Hill County  Blues variety I hear there may be something happening this weekend. A little duo by the name of Woodstomp will be going acoustic at Windy City Grille down in Como. Though I won't be able to be there, sad face, 'cause I got a paying gig out of town, happy face, I do highly recommend their music.



Today I am grateful for imagination, for play.

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