News of the Day

The paper would open at the table, the coffee still hot in the cup. He stood at the table inspecting. Had he been here before? Was this his coffee? Was he reading this paper? Had he meant to return or was there something else he was to be doing? He stood longer and surveyed the room. He did not recognize anything but, somehow, it all seemed, not familiar, not known but more like comfortable. If he had not been in this room before it is certainly the kind of room he would like. It was cool and not too large. There were books on shelves, books by the chair and magazines and papers. There was the smell of coffee not so freshly brewed and a very slight breeze from an open window. These were all things he would have selected for a room like this. He picked up a book and recognized the title but could not remember whether he had ever read it. He thought maybe he had, but could not be certain although it was a book that would certainly interest him. He stood there still longer as he saw pictures. He saw himself looking like he felt but was reasonable certain it was not how he looked at the moment. He saw a woman who the photographed man clearly adored. He saw the chair was big and old and comfortable. And the coffee was still steaming. Finding this to be a room he would imagine for himself, he settled himself in the chair and picked up the paper to read the news of the day.

Paragraphs

Sometimes smooth and rounded like a skipping stone. Skimming the water touching briefly, giving up some energy while returning to flight. Sometimes rough and angular. Each face at odds with the adjacent. Unique from every direction. Yet still one stone, one whole, one story. At rest or in flight.

Between a poem and a short story. A verbal photograph of a moment in time.