Horror and Boredom

"I’m sure you’re sick to death of people tell you stories about your name.”

Snip.

“Yeah. I don’t know. I’ve heard a lot of stories.”

Snip, snip, snip.

“About the man who made the deal with the devil?”

“Oh, nooooo. Ha-ha-ha. Not those kinds of stories.”

Snip-snip.

“Hey, Fausta, do you know what Liliana just told me? Oh, I so have to tell you something in a minute.”

Snipping.

“Oh, OK, Jenipher. Tell me later.” I considered that ph for three minutes.

“He sold his sold to the devil for the woman he adored.”

“Oh, nooo—ha-ha-“

he interrupted “---probably don’t hear that story as often as the others, I guess.” She gave a weak laugh.

“You live near here?”

“Oh, yeah, I live just down the street. You live in Chicago long?”

“Seben years I live in Chicago. How long you live in--?”

“—a few months. I live two blocks away from here, in fact."

He screwed up his face, still unused to seeing his face in the mirror having just gotten contact lenses. Jawline, he thought. My eyes look tired, too. Jesus.

“That’s it? Wow. It looks great, thanks. Is it long in back?”

“Long, you mean long, or..?”

“Both.”

“It is a long, but you have a very long neck. You don’t want to show too much up here…you see? Your neck is very long.”

“I’ll go with your instincts.”

“Chad will take care of you now, ok?"