Published Sept. 25, 2015 in
Saturday Night Reader (gone, sadly)
This story was originally written for a class taught by AnnMarie O’Malley. She was gentle in her (needed) criticism and urged me to revise and submit for publication. This is for you A.M.
g.lentz
by DL Shirey
Nearly every day I followed her. Bohemian and quite thin, it wasn’t physical attraction. Physicality, perhaps, as she slalomed sidewalks with that enormous fake Fendi bag, switching hands, using its weight and momentum to navigate through gaps in the crowd. She was g.lentz according to a Labelmaker font beside the apartment buzzer.
The grocery store had a sandwich window and stainless steel counter along the front glass. I sat on one of the stools waiting, her last stop as certain as Tuesday. I imagined her leaving the shabby Brownstone, with its warren of medical offices, adjusting her foot-speed to catch the crossing signal changing from red hand to green man. If her timing was off, avoiding the cluster of pedestrians by inspecting the pawnshop window.
DL Shirey 