For crying out loud BelleI said I dont know them well enough to speak to them I

For crying out loud bellei said i dont know them well

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“For crying out loud Belle.”I said. “I don’t know them well enough to speak to them. I shall write them a note.” “All right,” Belle said. The portable typewriter was in the case under my bed. I set it up at the head of the dining table. When I pulled my hands away from lifting the case, they were covered with dust. I removed the lid but didn’t take the machine off its base. The inside corners of the lid were spun with cobwebs. There were webs between the machine and the ridge of the base. I couldn’t find any white paper anywhere so I decided to use one sheet from the legal size bond pad of ruled yellow paper. I didn’t date the note. I made it short and to the point. It was fascinating to watch the keys falling forward and then back leaving the black marks on the yellow sheet. As I typed I heard the opening bars of Marriage of Figaro from the high fidelity radio-phonograph next door. (“Mathematics and Mozart, “ I said. “Mozart and mathematics.”) I typed on my name but didn’t sign it. When I saw that I had not quite filled half back to the machine and handed the other half to Belle. “There you are,” I said “Short and sweet; I hope he likes it.” Belle read the note. After she finished, she didn’t say a word. “Is it all right?” I asked. “Yes,” Belle said. “Then, send it off,” I said. “All right,” Belle said. She called Nata and had the note delivered at once. I didn’t get to hear Mozart to the end that night. About half way through the opera (that would be after Face I of the long playing record), the player was snapped off. Then I saw him leave their cottage. I sat up erect in my chair and watched his head bob up and down as he walked up to Finchshafen Road. When turned up the road, I knew where he was going. I stood up. I walked through the screen door and watched him walk up the concrete walk to the porch steps. He stopped at the foot of the stairs. I looked through the wire screen at his upturned face. “Yes?” I asked. “Can I see for a minute?” he asked. “Me?” I asked. “Yes, you,” he said. “Won’t you come up?” I asked. “No,” he said. “I’d rather talk to you on the street.” “All right,” I said. “If that’s what you feel about it.” 10
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I joined him at the foot of the porch steps. We went down the cement walk together. As soon as we went past the shelter of the cottage, a blast of the cold night air struck my face. I felt my left cheek twitching. “Yes?” I asked. “What’s on your mind? “ We walked down the Finchshafen road. He didn’t say anything for a long time. I looked at him. I waited. I had never spoke to him before. He considered a long time, long enough for me to be able to look back at the house to see if Belle was at the window watching.
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  • Summer '16
  • Atty. Lozano Brozas
  • 2008 albums, 2007 singles, 2005 singles, 2008 singles, Belle, Don Paeng

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