a Time to Pop Mints and Questions

The breeze blows about him, invisible swirls and whorls seen by none but the artist’s eye. The pin-wheeling particles play gleefully, tossing about leaves as if they are toys, paper thin. They are red and orange and yellow, flashing flames in the otherwise cold outdoors.

Geoff walks in the midst of this. His eyes are fixed on the elderly couple before him, sages grown similar in their time together. His mind’s eye sees only their form, plastering pictures of his hand clasped in Ivan’s overtop. The touch sends tingles up his arm, over his spine and diffused into his body. It was electric; who says machines cannot feel love when we use their lifeblood in metaphor?

Tap. Tap. Tap. His fingers move to an unheard rhythm, moved by the pistons of his heart to beat against his thigh.

Is this love? Could this be Prince Charming, or am I still looking to find the frog?


I’ll take the charm over the croak any day.

“Hey hey,” he responds, fearing the revelation of his infatuations through his enunciation of Ivan’s name. Drops and rises and syllabic stress give so much meaning to diction, and speech is read as it is spoken.

Ivan places his bags on the ground, one on either side of himself. The thick, black, environmentally conscious bags stand in stark contrast to the cheap white plastic of Geoff’s toss-aways, the proverbial yin to his yang.

The two are silent for a moment, mimicking at least that aspect of the couple beside them. A tic-tac flies from plastic prison to hand to mouth, Geoff nervous as they stand idle. Ivan, though, speaks up, always asking the questions with Geoff supplying his answers.

“So I don’t know much about you, other than what I could read off your grocery list,” he laughs. “I mean, I’m in uni, and am constantly bombarded with questions: major, minor, year, class, on or off campus, why not UVic? It’s ceaseless.”

“I know what you mean,” Geoff sighs. A little more upbeat, he adds, “So, ask away, then!”





Thought so. Sign?




Favourite colour?


Wanna go out with me?


The crone to the side shifts a sideways stare, a glare of sorts with narrowed hawk eyes. Ivan just smiles, a sly smirk smothered across his handsome face. Geoff sucks on the mint candy but finds it dissolved, much like his momentary ignorance.

Wait, what?

The End

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