Wednesday, June 22, 2005

love on the longest day

Colette promised to meet him after dark on Tuesday, at the little shelter in the park, and so the night before he'd gone out and bought wine and Trojenz because this must be the night. It had that sense of magic to it, or inevitability, and she had made it Tuesday which was not a "take me out on a date" kind of day of the week. And Tuesday was the solstice. But Matthew lived in Sioux Lookout, Ontario, almost as far west as you can get in North America's Eastern Time Zone. The North American Eastern Time Zone stretches for 38 degrees from eastern Quebec to western Ontario. Time zones are supposed to be 15 of the earth's degrees, which is how you divide 360 by 24. Maybe New York was the center of this zone. Maybe in New York at the Equinox if it wasn't daylight savings time the sun would be straight up at noon. But it was daylight savings time so even in New York noon would be one in the afternoon, and out here, two full sun hours later, noon was at least three. And at this latitude, if noon was three and this was a day with 18 hours of daylight...

Matthew thought of Colette's hair, her legs, her smile when she looked at him, thought about the way she kissed him, how with each night they had been together she had given him just one bit more, and pushed a little more into him, and he did the arithmetic. If noon was three and there would be 18 hours of daylight. "Damn," he sighed. "Midnight," he announced outloud. He rubbed his left hand across the crotch of his jeans in frustration. Then went back to painting Mrs. Devallier's yellow house.

© 2005 by Ira Socol________________________________
just an unimportant quickie from a Writers' Group exercise, one of those 15 minute stories. for the solstice.

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