May 25, 2005

it was late.  we were in my workstation. as the evening ripened our conversation had less to do with work and more with bantering, like rediscovering riding a bike, like the old times, when anything was a possibility.  more and more the back of his fingers reached out to slide softly on my arm or on my shouler.  suddenly my workstation seemed too cramped.  and the silences between the laughters grew infinitesimally longer each time.  then he grasps my hand, tight, like he was trying to squeeze an answer, or a revelation, or even a secret. and then he takes a deep breath, and in that usual way of his he maneuvers for a quick hug, laced with unspoken thoughts.  because the snowglobe where the two of us meet in compromise can only hold so much of the heavy echoes of our voices. 

gregory, a particularly cynical friend, abruptly appears.  he has made it one of his life goals to startle people to death by sneaking up on them and suddenly speaking in a loud voice.  this time, for the first time, he missed his cue, opting for hasty exit. 

the next day gregory came to my workstation and asked in a serious voice, “are you having an affair?”

i said, “no. i am having revenge.”