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By Vince (Vince) on Wednesday, April 03, 2002 - 11:59 pm
They thought he was a Bureaucrat, the waiters told the police, after the ambulance left. They formed a crescent around the officer with the notebook, smoothing their mustaches and finishing each other�s sentences. Police lounged about the café, waiting for clues and arching their eyebrows at the cooks, who spat curses into their sleeves. The Bureaucrat arrived at noon, before the crowds. He sat himself, taking a table from which he could watch the door and the street past the patio. He burned his mouth with his coffee, scattered his pastry across the table and tapped a pen against his chair. He would tremble and rise when the door opened, only to flush and fall back down, eyes turning again to the street. The laugh of a lover through the window or the sight of a tophat above the hedge would cause him to jump from his chair, craning his neck like a giraffe. The waiters approached the Bureaucrat but he waved them away, grimacing and muttering words the waiters could never hear. They gathered in the kitchen, whispering tales and indictments as the cooks waved knives and spat curses into their sleeves. Afternoon became evening, which turned, as always, to night. The café began to close. The waiters brought candles inside, their breath felling flames. Sounds were carried along the night from streets just waking up in the West, streets the waiters had never seen, never dared to see. The cooks, who knew those streets, stopped cursing and paused to grin. Huddled in the kitchen, the waiters had drawn straws to see who would ask the Bureaucrat to leave when they heard the door open, and the sound of a chair being pushed back from a table. |
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By Eithne (Eithne) on Tuesday, April 09, 2002 - 09:30 am
Grrrr... Leaving us in suspence again! Very cool. I love the cooks "who spat curses into their sleeves". I think the lack of adjectives actually adds to this piece, the stark clarity of the writing conveys a cool, film noir atmosphere.Neat. |
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By KateC (Katec) on Tuesday, April 09, 2002 - 12:36 pm
Wonderful! I agree with Eithne about the stark quality being an asset, and you've got me hooked, not only wanting to know about the bureaucrat and what happened, but about the streets the waiters had never seen, but the cooks grinned about. |
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By Sarah (Sarah) on Friday, April 12, 2002 - 09:07 am
I love the cooks spitting curses up their sleeves and that you alluded to the action repeatedly. You have some great nouns in the first paragraph: crescent, mustache, eyebrows. I like your verb choices, too: scattered, craned, whispering, waved. I especially like the effect of several of your passive sentences. They give the piece a dream-like quality and softened the edges. Also, I like how you convey the ridiculousness of the waiters just by describing a handful of innocuous actions. I really enjoyed this one! |
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