Modern Reader Shorts
This is just a couple little blurb ideas I had that can't really be used for anything else. No warnings, really, it's mostly humor.
Luchino
“Your socks are mis-matched,” the professor announces offhandedly, sorting his notes. You’re laid out on the cushy chair in his ‘office,’ shoes off and legs dangling from one arm. And it’s true, your socks are different colors.
“Yeah, I couldn’t be bothered to find an actual pair this morning,” you answer. Luchino pauses and looks pointedly over at you, through his lashes, and squints a bit. That’s his thinking face, you note. Like he’s working through an equation.
“You’re not concerned about being judged for the state of your attire?” he asks.
“Not really. It’s not like anyone really sees my socks anyway.”
“Well, I’m seeing them now. It’s a messy look,” he finally says. There’s the smallest of smirks on his face as he says it. This is some unspoken test, a probe of your reactions. He does a lot of those.
“Okay, but you already know I’m a mess so what the fuck difference does that make?”
Luchino snorts a laugh at your response, and then coos a casual “touché.”
Frederick
“Has anyone ever told you ‘you have a slutty little waist’?” You call out to Fred. His fingers slip on the piano keys and the song comes to a cacophonous halt. He’s frozen still with his back to you—his dorito-looking back with its broad shoulders and snatched waist. You know by experience the man is boney as hell, so how dare he have such a silhouette?
“N-“ Fred coughs, voice croaking. “No, I can’t say that they have.” You can’t see his face, so you wonder if it’s shock or humor that makes him stutter.
“Well, you do,” you reply. A long silence settles over the room. He never dares to look at you, but you think you see pink turning at the tip of his ear.
“Was there anything else?” he asks. His fingers hesitantly move to restart the song.
“Nope. I just thought you should know.” You suppress a giggle as Fred clears his throat and begins playing again.
Robbie (platonic, obviously)
“There’s…games on this?” the too-tall headless boy asked, holding your phone in his discolored hands. He’d been asking around for a playmate all evening, until he found you. You weren’t much of a hide-and-seek type of person, however, and thought this might entertain him a bit in the meantime.
“Sure is! I’ve got crosswords, sudoku, Candy Crush, plenty of stuff!” You reach and tap around on your phone’s screen, pulling up the list of games you’d downloaded to pass the time, when you still lived in a place where there was time to pass. Candy Crush springs to life on the screen and Robbie flinches, nearly dropping your phone.
“It’s so bright…and loud,” he muttered. It was half awe, and half distress, you thought. Too stimulating for the boy, perhaps. You tried sudoku instead—it was a dark screen with no music, but by the time you’d explained the rules to Robbie, he was limp and snoozing against your shoulder.










