Page 25 of Drawn Together
“The themes of the book. Did it help your dark, moody, artistic skills for the commission?”
I think about it for a moment. I mean, I think it worked. But then again, I have yet to hear any feedback from Cedric or his agent, and unfortunately, I know that silence is probably worse than a response at this point. But then again, I’m not sure how much darker I can get here.
“I think it helped. But, not enough to get me the job.”
He hums and takes another sip of the tea in front of him. The speaker above us replays the same jazz song that’s been on a loop for over an hour now.
Fletcher must have noticed the start-up of the same saxophone rhythm again, because he cracks his neck and tries to shrink down. “Do they not have any other music choices?”
“I like it. It’s…mellifluous.”
“Mellifluous?” His nostrils flare.
“That’s my word of the day.”
“Oh?”
“I have this app that sends me personalized words of the day. I try to use it in a sentence at least three times that day so I’ll remember it.”
“Hence… Mercurial, discombobulated, and tumultuous?”
“Mercurial and tumultuous, yes. Discombobulated is what my dad called the living room if there was a single sock on the floor.”
You should have seen his reactions after Sloane had a sleepover. Empty Cheeto bags scattered between a multitude ofJellycats and friendship bracelet making kits half open, beads dispersed like confetti on stage after a concert. While my sister and her friends slept in, he just walked right through and got in his car, driving in circles until we assured him the room was picked up to his liking.
“It must work if you remember them.”
“Fortuitously.”
He raises a brow.
“That was one of my words last week. I think I may have used it wrong, though.”
We go back and forth on our own theories of the ending of his chosen book—he thinks that she never left, while I fully believe it’s clear she is safe and sound at home.
“Okay,” I say, as I clasp my hands together. “What am I reading for next week?”
Fletcher leans down to his backpack at our feet and pulls out an old, worn-out paperback. The book is soft and pliable in my hands, and the corners are yellowed and velvety, folding down from endless picking and turning of pages. The title, Frankenstein, is faded, and there are so many creases in the spine it’s like it has its own wrinkles of time holding it together.
“Wow.” I flip it over and read the back. “You must like this one a lot.”
He shrugs. “It was my buddy’s.”
It’s only four words that shouldn’t hold that much weight. But something in it feels off.
“I feel like I shouldn’t take this. I can just get the eBook.”
Fletcher stares at me with such emptiness, I almost wonder if he means to be looking at someone behind me. “Take the book, Flora.”
“Will your friend mind?”
“No. He won’t mind.”
Ten
Wordoftheday:accretion
Definition:the process of growth or increase, typically by the gradual accumulation of additional layers or matter
