Even a bad party

I was working last night on something for the Geist Postcard contest and in going through old writing found a short little piece I thought I might use. It's a bit too short, however, so instead I'm going to cheat a little for today's post, and try this out on whoever's out there...let me know what you think...



EVEN A BAD PARTY.

I’m his first fare of the day. 4:36am. He leans over the seat with his arm. “Sorry I didn’t slow down earlier”, he says, the residue of German in his voice, “I thought you were one of those girls. Then I noticed you got a bag. They don’t usually have a bag.” He gives me a big smile. Turns back to the changing light. “Where do you want to go?” I give him the address and close my eyes for a moment. The sky is losing its pitch and with the window down I can hear the birds are starting in.

“This is the best time of the day. It’s usually bumper and bumper. This is the only one hour when the city is really asleep.”

“Yup” I say, fighting the lull of the soft car motor. “It’s pretty bad, usually…the traffic”.

He nods, grimacing into the rear view mirror. “Yah. Between you and me” he says, “we know everything.” I look out the window and think about this.

“Good party?” He asks.

“Yeah, it was a good party.”

“Well, yah.” He says, turning onto my street. “Even a bad party is better than a funeral.”