The Trick
by Dee Harding
Johnny shows Jane the trick.
Standing in front of her, sleeves rolled up.
He takes the corks from the wine they've been drinking, and idly passes one through the other. Hands flowing like water.
She stops. She stares. She asks him how it's done.
Johnny shrugs, and gives her a mischievous smile.
'It's a trick', he says.
Later, on the way home, he admits to himself that he doesn't know.
That he's tried to remember how it's done, where he learnt the knack of it.
But that nothing comes.
Two weeks on, Jane shows Johnny the corks.
Awkward, a twist, a slight of the hand.
Step by stilted step, eyes narrowed with focus, she shows him the knack of it.
He smiles. He nods.
'That's it', he says.
But later, when Jane has gone home, he admits to himself, that it isn't.
Johnny takes the hands he's been staring at, and with a shrug, with a troubled smile, idly passes one through the other.
As if they were water.
Trying to remember where he learnt the trick.
- - - - -
Bio: Dee Harding is not a writer by trade, but has appeared in a number of small online flash-fiction collections and communities for fun and very little profit. Dee's favourite playmates are called 'Ambiguity', and 'Inference', and they listen to far too much Kate Bush.
Monday, January 16, 2006
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