An Opening

“Oh, you have finally arrived.” Surprise rings forth from his smooth, warm voice accented with a renewed sincerity. “You must forgive my insolence, I am afraid I had not noticed you until now.” Descending into the mouth of his grand velvet modern-wingback chair, he places his glass on the table designated for when an unexpected visitor arrives and one must sit and set their glass to allow for events to be, how would one put it? Set in motion: As if the clock’s ticking responded to one’s presence in the first place, or vice versa. For, the natures of abstractions can never be construed with certainty.

“Or can they be? It all comes full circle to the children’s question of a tree falling in a forest, no one being in proximity, and so forth. Would you care for a drink?” A genuine smile masquerades itself upon his face, born with anticipation for the rest of the evening. “Oh, you would? Excellent! Lucy my dear, could you please fetch our guest a glass of,” lowering into a whisper, “How does vermouth sound? Fantastic,” louder and directed at Lucy, stirring somewhere beyond view, “A glass of vermouth for our guest.”

He clasps his hands together with much content. “What a beautiful thing, to have a guest that is.” There is a swirling glimmer in the man’s eyes, never wholly revealing itself, yet promising that an awakened soul has become overjoyed by the presence of an old friend. “And you were always such a good friend, you always were.” A tear forms in his palpebral crevice and he quickly dismisses it with his handkerchief. “Look at me, tearing up over the sight of an old friend. Palpebral being the anatomical allusion to one’s eyelids, but I rest assured you knew that. Could not even say why I bothered to bring it up at all, to be honest.”

A long streak of black approaches carrying a filled wine glass in her hand. Her tall ominous figure hovering over you, she hands you the glass. The streak’s frame is otherwise straight until reaching higher altitudes near the shoulders whereupon a hunch develops, dangling her head and hair over her shoulder’s edge. “Thank you, Lucy. Oh, and please stand up straight in the presence of our guest.” His smile is uneven and she leaves the room.

Of course, there was the question that loomed in the room’s ether. “Yes, the question.” A question which would not be outright difficult. “But may take a bit of time to unpack.” He leans forward in his chair, his hands forming an interlacing triangle. “There are those who would say, ‘You could find everything in nothing,” while others would propose, ‘You could find nothing in everything.’” So, which is it?



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