Mind Your Own
by lauren white
"Hello Miss, what's your name," the woman asked. A smile shoved onto her face, just as fake as her stance, strait and professional with an outstretched hand. I stared at it, I won't accept.
"Why do you care?" I remarked.
The woman retracted her hand slowly, "Well you're new here --"
"I'm not new; in fact, I've been here to long. I should be going." To be exact, this entire outing was a mistake. What was I thinking? As if people could ever understand. I have no time for this.
"I was just wondering what your name was," the woman breathed. She placed her slender hand into the groove of her hip and looked down on me.
"I don't have a name." This was the truth, anyway. I may have been born with one, but I've decided that it's easily ignored, but obviously not as easily avoided.
"What kind of person doesn't have a name?" The woman shook her head in disbelief, pointedly narrowing her attention on my blank expression. She, on the other hand, had a million emotions floating across her face. The woman looked away from my gaze and held her breath for my reply.
"A smart one." I suggested, or rather stated. I suppose it wasn't at all the answer this woman had expected.
"And why is that?"
"Name's are for people who need to be remembered." I'm never remembered, I wanted to add. I won't though. This person doesn't know me, and probably wouldn't have wanted to prior to this tiring conversation. At this point, it's out of her pure stubbornness as an authority keeping her in my face, her patience obviously running short.
"Who's to say I won't remember you? I have a great memory." Right.
"It doesn't matter if you can remember me or not. It won't account for anything."
"Don't say that... it's not true" Of course, this was the proper thing to say. She could never be so sure. As I thought this, the sleeping pills resting in my purse felt heavier. I shifted my eyes to the lump the bottle created then back to the womans face.
"What will my name do for you? How will my name change your life?"
"It won't, I was just being friendly." You failed.
"Well then, I suggest you let me be on my way." I turned and took a pace back to the door, free at last.
"How old are you?" She interrupted. I shot her a look and heaved a frustrated sigh. This woman is older than I, but much more naive. Can she not see I have no interest in her? Does she not realise I'm on the brink of insanity, and have more important things to attend to?
"I don't age, I just live," I replied simply. Little does she know, it won't be the case for long.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
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