George, In the Hallway

He had the lesson time wrong. 4:30. He arrived earlier.

He remembered his violin. He remembered his music.

He waited in the hallway, and a girl scooted in before him, apologizing. She had blond hair. She knew his lesson time. The girl remembered her music. He waited.

In the hallway, he thought: Mary Jane. In her end, her hair was streaked white. She used hairspray and fashioned a helmet to the day’s battering and her cheeks hollowed and her knuckles swelled and she needed bourbon at 4:30 and then earlier.

He drank bourbon with Mary Jane and waited, even when she got the time wrong. It came earlier and earlier. The time did. In the end. 

The glass ashtrays on the living room tables ended ornamental. He did not remember when he threw them away. Sometime after he threw Mary Jane’s ashes away. 

He felt wrong in the hallway. He felt wrong remembering. 

He remembered his violin. He remembered his music. He had the lesson time wrong.

The violin girl did not know him. She did not know Mary Jane. She knew her lesson time and she knew his. He waited, relieved his turn was not coming earlier and earlier after all.

This post was inspired by a George Saunders’ writing prompt to write a story in 200 words but using only 50 unique words.