"Meno y Rosa"M. Stanley Bubien
"Our love," Meno, 12, thought as he brandished his mini-switchblade, "Forever!" Leaning sideways to block the receptionist's view, he began carving his message onto the chair's wooden rest.
"Meno!" his mother whisper-commanded upon reentering from the nurse's station, "Vamanos!"
Twisting the blade closed with two fingers, Meno grinned, for he had completed his lover's inscription---a permanent scar in the oaken arm---at just that moment. "Fate," he realized.
Strolling down the corridor, he pondered Rosa, only Rosa. Not even the extraordinarily porcine woman sloshing toward the doctor's office drew Meno's attention away from his love.
The elevator dinged its arrival. Politely, Meno allowed an elderly couple to totter aboard. "Destiny awaits!" Meno considered the aged pair, and the sliding doors perfectly masked a distant crack of shattering oak.
Copyright ©2001 M. Stanley Bubien. All Rights Reserved.
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