by Stef Nunez
Libby sat in the worn restaurant booth and looked at her watch again. It was 10 minutes passed 3, and Paola was late as usual. She sighed and swore for the millionth time that she would start telling her girlfriend to arrive 15 minutes earlier than the intended time.
She pulled a small fold of paper from her purse and smoothed it out on the table. It was a poem that had been tucked underneath her keyboard at work when she arrived that morning. By now she had memorized every line, but still she read it to herself with a tiny smile.
They call her Experimental Art because her fingernails are dirty.
Sometimes when she comes into work, her eyeliner is smudged and you wonder…
Did she sleep in her makeup because she’s sad or because she’s lazy?
You don’t wonder for long because the sag in her shoulders tells you everything
Just like Experimental Art, she makes you ponder the wildest depths of your own emotions
When she looks up and meets your eyes
Lovely
The poem was written by her coworker, John, the well-spoken and equally well-dressed HR Manager, who always seemed to catch her at the coffee machine. Lately their small conversations had begun to take on new life, a life where John would squeeze Libby’s arm when they parted ways. He would send her funny emails at work, and make any excuse to pass by her cubicle. It was something new to break up the monotony of her every day, and she welcomed it.
It took a while for her to realize, but she had begun to resent her life with Paola. They had been together for 4 years, had all the same friends and had fallen into a safe and reliable pattern that could almost be considered… a rut. Libby needed more. The poem cemented something for her, and she knew she needed to make a change.
Suddenly, Paola came into view, her face looking flushed and her expression apologetic. Hectic, beautiful, constantly late Paola.
“I’m so, so, so sorry, love, I had some last minute things to take care of,” she said, throwing her schoolbag onto the seat before sliding in after it. “Picked up some new vitamins to try, by the way. You’ve been a little lethargic lately, and I got
worried. Better safe than sorry.”
Better Safe Than Sorry. Libby’s small smile widened.
“What’s that?” Paola nodded at the piece of paper on the table.
“It’s just a really sad poem by a really sad poet. I quit my job today.”
Stef Nunez is the EIC of Sage Cigarettes Magazine.
