Maps
January 20, 2008Sweaty, with a shirt of questionable color, the vendor stops at every table in the café. Despite his energetic gesticulations, the café-customers are so engrossed in their mundane conversations that they neither see him nor hear him. Hidden in the shade of my umbrella, I follow him with my eyes, a straw between my lips. What does he sell? Squinting, I focus my attention on his bag: glossy papers rolled as carpets cuddle inside. With continents and oceans! I have The World, Europe and Bulgaria but have always wanted… I run towards him. Excuse me, do you have North America?
This is fantastic! What a great use of 100 words! It left me with a feeling of satisfaction… nostalgic for that travel limbo of never knowing what will be around the corner.
And it’s funny, too, that you end with “North America?” considering what a big transition it has been to come live here for you. Did this short story really happen?
[...] with the 100 Words exercise; such interesting results from Cloe’s MAPS topic from Alex R, Aneliya, Annabelle, Cloe, Dickie, Jen, Jessica, Sally, Ting, and yours truly. I’m not sure what [...]
I love this piece. I love your use of word and the exitements I get from rushing myself trying to discover the character.
Thank you for the nice comments. I was a bit intimidated by the 100-word restriction. The descriptions are left hanging and incomplete because I was hurrying to sketch the situation before my limit was over. I hope this did not make the story too dry and lifeless.
Cloe, this is a real story from this past summer. My parents and I (until recently) rarely get a chance to travel and maps allow us to experience the world from a distance. For some reason, I could never find a map of North America (meaning a big map that you hang on the wall). I thought that mom and dad would find it particularly useful to have one, now that I am in Vermont.
I read the last line first to this piece and laughed because it is funny when read alone. But reading the whole thing, you made me feel excited about the bag’s content. I wish you had just started at “Hidden in the shade of my umbrella” because the imagery here and your descriptions are so vivid and bold that I want to hear more about you and less about the tourist, but maybe not with just 100 words.