A Couple of Fools by Mike Jacobson
Stupor. An exaggeration. Lengthwise it could not be determined, but likewise it was promising. Lightness of touch when appropriate.
Half-stoned, he turned to her. As it speeded up, he caught sight of everything out of the corner of his eye. Everything, the totality of what mattered. Matters, to this day. His eye encompasses elephantine figures, excellence of bowing, unbelievable. The other half sober, never stupefied, she rises to the occasion. Just as far as the eye can see, she chides him about his, and therefore, her sobriety. This is now getting to be a major problem, she could hear him thinking, being exquisitely careful not to let her in on it.
But she could never agree with him about this particular instance. She could never have, could never have had, any semblance of concord. Control she can have a semblance of, that is what she has forever been sure of. Concord, not.
Could they have been a musical duet, they would have been by someone modern, even contemporary. Their dissonance leading to a life full of interest, eventful, with children. The children having grown up and moved away, left them wondering about the last movement.
A fixed glass. In the sense of being made by a master craftsperson, making it as solid as the air around them. Their four lips on the rim stood for something amazingly significant. They have, each of them, a perfect understanding of where this has been going. And when it gets there, arrives at its destination, it will put on old Latin clothes.
They can declare happiness; are we to question them.
Mike Jacobson is a former independent film-maker who has several films in the Film Makers Cooperative catalog. For many years he has been writing prose pieces, some of which may be categorized as fiction, some as very short plays, while others can’t easily be categorized. Mike has made his living writing fundraising appeals for a variety of non-profit organizations. He is married, with a daughter and three grandchildren.