A Night in a Year: 36. Fish Tank

[jacquelineb]

Before she can say anything, Jeroen and Xavier bend their heads together to talk. She could only see their lips move, not make out any words, just like fish bubbling underwater.

She turns to Diarmuid, whose flat mouth smile seems more tolerant that pleased.

What the fuck is his deal? She wonders, remembering the lip-smacking from the street. Maybe he’d hoped to scare her off.

She squares her shoulders, and settles into the chair. She is not leaving now. Diarmuid doesn’t speak, so she takes the initiative.

They make small talk: Been here often? (Both before but not frequently) What do you think of it? (It’s alright, he says, which she agrees to, knowing her true response will take too long and make no sense to him.) What do you research exactly? (He starts giving her a dry scientific explanation about something to do with insect genetics but soon she’s shaking her head with incomprehension.)

The chat exhausted, she looks about the bar and near the dance floor, at the people moving through the light like water. All they need is a fish tank in here, she thinks, like they have in some of the really swanky bars in the larger cities. That said, it would seem far too ostentatious for Cambridge, too over the top. Besides, it’s better now, watching people glide and shimmer in the blue light.

“People watching?” Diarmuid asks.

She nods. “People are interesting.”

He raises a sardonic eyebrow. “You think so?”

“You don’t?”

“Most people are so self-absorbed they don’t see past the end of their own nose.”

She looks at sideways at him first, before returning to the crowd. Yes. They are all caught up in their own little dramas, unaware of anyone but their immediate circle.

There are worse things they could be doing, she decides.

-
Next: 37. Cheers!

Image found on flickr, by Wonderland, used under the Creative Commons License.

Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.