❈ Drabble Meme [always open]
“How do you do what you do, Gabriel?” The reporter asked from beside him at the bar.
Lips pulled away from a glass before the critic responded. Above them two brows dipped low in uncertainty. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he began, propping his elbows up on the bar, “that I would be too nervous to offend someone by publishing my opinions like you do. You know the editor actually asked me to be more biased, can you believe that? I just– How?”
“What do you want me to say?”
Bhari let out a laugh. “I don’t know.” He took a sip of his drink while trying to find the words.
“It’s just honesty,” Gabriel said. “I write what everyone else is thinking. You could do it too if you were more confident.” He avoided Bhari’s pointed look aimed at him by watching the girls on stage. “Do you remember that awful restaurant we went to last Thursday? What did you think of the food?”
“It was awful,” Bhari replied.
Gabriel laughed. “Beyond that, Bhari. Tell me what you really thought of it.”
Bhari sat for a moment in heavy contemplation before speaking. “It was like the chef lost his sight and… had to have the recipe read to him by the sous chef.” Gabriel’s attention shifted away from the women to look at his company with great interest. The smile on his face urged Bhari to continue. “But rather than a book of recipes, the sous was given a book of experimental food-related Gertrude Stein poems.”
Bhari felt a bit rude saying such things, but the way they seemed to amuse Gabriel delighted him.
“And also they had salt shakers instead of hands.”
“Well,” Gabriel laughed. “That’s a start.”
