What is Written on the Bottom of my Foot

hairy_love

It is one of those days where music just sounds better. Even the songs you’ve heard a thousand times–especially those. I sit reading Stephen King by the window; a thing you do when you have nothing to do and nothing to read.

“How can you read and listen to music at the same time?” N asks, walking in. I put my kindle down. I start hearing the music again, ABBA. I pause it.

N slumps down on the couch beside me. I hand him a cigarette. He doesn’t object. I light one for myself.

“ABBA? Really?” he asks, nodding toward my computer.

I shrug. “It’s the type of music you listen to when you’ve got nothing to do and nothing to listen to.”

N frowns. “You’re listening to it on YouTube?”

“So?”

“So you have pretty much all the music in the world to listen to, that made no sense.”

I place the ash tray between us. “Yeah, but it sounded nice.”

“The music?”

“No, what I said.”

N narrows his eyes at me. “It was nonsense.”

“Nonsense can be beautiful.”

“Can it?”

I hit play on ABBA–Chiquitita, I tap my foot along with the beat.

“Yes.”

N shrugs, sinking deeper into the couch.

“Missing someone sucks,” he groans.

I don’t nod, I don’t need to. He knows I agree. Instead, I smoke and wait.

“Do you ever rub your own skin, maybe on accident and find that, somehow , the touch of your own skin makes you think of that person, makes you miss them even more?” he asks, serious.

I can’t help choking a bit on my cigarette.

“Hm, no?”

His bottom lip sags. “Yeah, no, I know, it’s weird.”

“No, it’s not that–it’s just, I’m really hairy.”

N looks thoughtful. I knock my cigarette out in the ash tray.

“You don’t miss hairy people?” N asks, finally.

I suddenly think of my best friend. I place my hand on my chest, lightly scratching my chest hair. N frowns at me. I pull my hand away.

“Uh, no. I mean, yes, but no. It doesn’t make me miss him. I thought you were talking about, like, romantically missing someone.”

“I was.”

I glare at him. “Well, then why the thing about hairy people?”

He shrugs, “just curious.”

He takes the back of his hand and rubs it along his arm. He looks lost for a moment. Then, he takes a deep breath and stands up.

“Oh well, it feels nice. Too bad you have hair everywhere. It helps, oddly.”

He turns and walks out.

The music, instead of singing, nags for silence. I pause it and frown down at my own body. Suddenly, I get an idea. I bend one leg up, take two fingers and brush them along the bottom of my foot.

it tickles.

 

 

 

33 comments

  1. hahaha, again an excellent story to laugh and to reflect. Still a cheerless prevailing mood. How can it be otherwise…; )
    “I don’t nod, I don’t need to. He knows I agree.” And reading “Stephen King” with “Chiquitita” Background music. It tells its own tale! An analysis of this, would be already very interesting…:)
    But really funny details with an fantastic idea at the end!
    P.S.: Yes, and the picture is really an elegant match! He looks a little bit like Jesus. And the hairs? Well combed! They look like “lines” on a wall at a prison!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. What you are looking after!! Well, maybe the stories are not chronological, then he is perhaps still non-smoker. Or is smoker and starts trying to quit later ….. but if it “Flash” so confirmed, then it will probably be so!

    Like

  3. It’s entertaining reading these comments, because they show that in some way your readers – including me – have all made friends of the two characters. We care whether they’re happy; we care what they think; we even care whether they’re succeeding in giving up smoking (I mean, it is so bad for your health…). That’s a big achievement, even bigger than consistently making us laugh!

    Liked by 2 people

    • haha yes it’s really fun to see people following along with certain things. I try to make stories that people can enjoy all on their own but also weave into the fabric of a larger story. And yes, it is awful for us. We both need to try and be a bit healthier I think.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. BTW I had a go at a short story in your style – I hope you’ll view that as imitation being the sincerest form of flattery! It’s on my blog, and the title is “The trouble with heaven” if you wanted to have a look.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. “I put my kindle down. I start hearing the music again, ABBA.”
    I love this line – I always have music playing whenever I’m reading and writing, and it’s when I suddenly start hearing it again that I know I was properly caught up in whatever I was doing.

    Liked by 2 people

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