Where did he go? Did a piece of him disappear into the crease made by the seat-back meeting the seat bottom? Did he fold like an accordion? I tried not to stare and looked away, but for the rest of the night, whenever we sat down -- at the restaurant or in the coffee house, with our table pulled up close to the guitarist on his wooden stool, who lowered his eyes whenever he sang into the microphone -- I studied him, trying to understand his body frame, and to resist the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him up straight.
Louise Yeiser is a freelancer living in Sewickley, PA with three English Mastiffs and a cat.
Copyright 2008 Louise Yeiser
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