Short Story

"Lies"

"Lies" is an experimental story for me. I want to work on my ability to contemplate emotions better. It is something that I can do fair to middlin in poetry, but haven't had much experience with it in short story formats.

So here I give you a story with few names. I hope it works for you, then I open to criticism.

Excerpt

The old man's leather hat is the color of cardboard. He thumbs through a newspaper on the table in front of him, his coffee cup empty and the waitress waved away with an aggravated grunt. I recognize the picture on the front page. The paper is at least a week old. It looks well read. I imagine his fingers are cracked, maybe nicotine stained, though I have not seen him smoke since he sat down at the table over to to our left about half an hour ago. His face is wrinkled. His hair is that stubbornshade of black that refuses to whiten, descending into that odd shade best attributed to week old dishwater.

If I were talking to you at the moment, instead of sitting here in silence and feeling you watch me, I would tell you, in no uncertain terms, that I am much more interested in figuring out why this old man is reading a week old paper with a look of concentration on his face than in listening to whatever bullshit you are currently speaking outloud. If you were speaking. Now, you are waiting for me to say something. To respond.

I turn to make eye contact. This is as loud as I feel like being at the moment.

"53 dollars and 17 cents."