Gravity

It was of those November mornings when I wished I had remembered gloves. The air wasn’t quite bitter yet, but my fingertips were numb, thrust inside thinly lined pockets. My shoes led me down the street, slapping a flat-soled rhythm on the damp pavement.

“Morning, Karen.”

Her short blonde hair flipped around as she pivoted on tip-toe, backpack dangling from one elbow. “Hi.”

Shivering, I tilted my head up. “It’s really clear this morning, isn’t it? I mean, it’s so neat to be able to see all these stars, even with the sky glow, and the moon, and you can even see that part of the moon that isn’t lit up by the sun, you know, that other side that we’ve never really seen, and it reminds me of eighth-grade earth science, and it also makes me feel really insignificant and small, you know, in the –”

“You’re ruining the effect.”

Grinning, I threaded my fingers into my scarf. Karen stepped away, sneezing into her hand, and looked down the street for the bus.

“This sky is romantic, I think,” she said, turning back to me. “I’m thinking of a clear night, walking down a country road with a boy at my arm.” She gestured dramatically and batted her eyes.

“Ha! Of course! But I see it more as….hmm….walking down a mostly empty city street, holding some guy’s hand, looking in the little shops closing down for the night, with light snowflakes falling, I mean, it’s not too cold, just barely cold enough for snow, and there’ll be Christmas music playing in the background.” Headlights flashed around a distant corner.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Chestnuts roasting…on an open fire…” she sang over the creak of familiar brakes.

“Oh, shush.” I followed her up the bus steps and sat down, as we always do, in the fourth row of seats. Karen pulled her headphones over her pink ears and poked at the CD player in her pocket. The bus lurched down the street.

I watched what I could of the sunrise out of the bus window. The fog over the park, eerily like breath, began to lift. The bus loop of the high school glistened with last night’s rain, reflecting the looming brick building and the pastel streams overhead.

Whispered gossip floated up from the back of the bus. Karen yawned and pulled the headphones off, stuffing them into her pocket. Our driver croaked a reluctant “Have a nice day,” and crouched a little farther over the wide steering wheel. Sneakers drummed another rhythm on the bus steps as thirty-some sleepy teenagers stepped into the keen awareness of dew and concrete, not knowing that later, light snowflakes would fall, at temperatures just barely cold enough for snow.

I liked it for what it was, just a beginning I assume.

My shoes led me down the street, slapping a flat-soled rhythm on the damp pavement.

It sounds good, but can you really slap a flat-soled rhythm? I first read the word slapped and thought flip flops or maybe broken soled-shoes flapping. Flat-soled is a different sound unless maybe the person was running. Just a thought.

“You’re ruining the effect.”

Meh. I think "You're ruining the moment." or something like that would work better.

I would have liked some contact between the two on the bus, or at least you mentioning that they never talked on the bus. Something that acknowledges their reactions in the new environment you presented.

The end didn't tell me much and I felt (since you used "not knowing that later") that something important should come from the snow.

Good luck with this. It's a nice start.

Thanks for the reply. It's actually not a beginning, it's just meant to stand alone, although I see where you're coming from with that idea.

Regarding the "You're ruining the effect": This is non-fiction. That's actually what she said.

I do like the idea of saying we never talked on the bus. I'll consider that.

Thanks again!
Colleen

This was very real, but it didn't have too much detail, which was good. I liked the simplicity and honesty about it. One thing that surprised me: in the second line you tell how

The air wasn’t quite bitter yet,

which I found strange since I'd never thought of air as being bitter - I've always described winter air as being hard, sterile, crystalized, unwavering, frozen... I'd never have thought of bitter. I liked that it was a different adjective, but found it hard to make fit with my own images of fall/winter.
I also thought that the end was a little misleading - it made me think this was like the first chapter of a novel or something. Maybe you could turn it into that...
Anyway, I really liked it. I think this is the first prose I've read by you - really very good.

Lol, well I guess I should look at the forum it's in before I go correcting your dialogue. ^_^

I have to say this piece has real potential; you really convey the atmosphere of what would normally be a rather mundane incident, and turn it into something a little speical, yet still real, enabling the reader to really relate to the protagonists.

Whilst i agree that

My shoes led me down the street, slapping a flat-soled rhythm on the damp pavement.

seems a little odd when taken literally, it makes an everyday action that little more interesting, and creates an intimacy between reader and protagonist, placing you along side them.

I also agree that this could certainly be developped further into a much wider-reaching story, though I have to say it is more than adequate as it is.

A great, well-considered and balanced piece. Keep up the good work (God i sound like my Dad...).

(Darn these literature websites - you actually have to type RP...)

The bus lurched down the street.

Try adding a little more detail to this sentence.

Otherwise I really liked this. I could make a lot of connections to this, having to ride the bus myself. Good Job, keep it up!

Quote:
Grinning, I threaded my fingers into my scarf.
I kind of didn’t get that. You can thread your fingers? -Not meant to be ironic or anything, I just don’t know. Lol, now you know it’s me who’s writing the crit.

Quote:
But I see it more as….hmm….walking down a mostly empty city street, (…)
You have four periods instead of three. Also, a space after the ellipse.

Quote:
Sneakers drummed another rhythm on the bus steps as thirty-some sleepy teenagers stepped into the keen awareness of dew and concrete, not knowing that later, light snowflakes would fall, at temperatures just barely cold enough for snow.
Last two commas needed? The first-before-the-last isn’t, the second one I’m not sure.


Ah, buses… Hate them. Ride in them every day, lol.

-elein