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- The Race
-
-
- I watch him from across the room. I know she's watching
- him, too. I planned it that way. Do they know that? Probably.
- Nothing I do is as much of a surprise to anyone else as it is to
- myself.
-
- I walk over to him and offer him a drink. He takes it of
- course, who wouldn't? But he eyes it warily, as if the glass contains
- poison. I make light of that and the situation seems to ease.
-
- She watches me. She knows what I am doing. She recognizes
- the signs. Same thing she has done to me many times before... And
- perhaps she thinks of him more than I do. Hell, who am I kidding.
- Of course she does. And that is all I need to know.
-
- I stand in front of her. Whatever she says, I make a biting
- remark. Whatever she does, I do something that makes her look like
- a fool. And as I walk him back to his room, I revel in the fact
- that it is me and not her. For once, I am better.
-
- But I cannot stop there. I must go further. I must prove
- myself. To myself. To her. Prove I can. I make an advance. He
- makes an advance. The race is on.
-
- He strokes my hair...
- (around the first corner)
- His lips press against mine...
- (heading into the second lap)
- His lips move down
- (moving into)
- His hands violate
- (the fourth lap. What happened to)
- My thoughts
- (the third?)
- spin. I am a
- (Stoplight!)
- little girl. I have to make
- (green. It's still green. No, wait!)
- a choice
- (It's yellow... Point of)
- Split second thoughts whirl...
- (decision.)
- Should I stop? Oh, God should I
- (Point)
- go?
- (of)
- I go.
- (no return)
- I
- (crash!)
- won!
- (shattering glass)
- didn't I?
- (burned to)
- didn't I?
- (nothing.)
-
- ---Stephanie Kay Buffman, August 7, 1991...
-
-