r.k.vr.y

The phone rang. Tess stared at it, saw the payphone number on the call display, listened to it ring again. Halfway through the third ring, she grabbed the receiver, lifted it to her ear. “Hello?” She held her breath.

Unfinished Business, oil on canvas, Darwin Leon, 2010

Jake pulled into the driveway and  saw Ruth sitting on the front porch steps, bundled in her parka, wool mittens, and a black stocking cap. Her arms cradling her legs, she looked like a child waiting on her father to arrive home from work. In the headlights, her eyes were radiant in the brisk chill of the coming dark. He cut the engine and scrambled out of the car. The snow crunched under his feet.

The Universal Acrobat, oil on canvas, Darwin Leon, 2010

A single caraway seed rolls back and forth across the dashboard as I navigate these curves and there’s a bag of juniper berries in the back and I think there may be some aniseed in here somewhere and I should be able to smell it, but all I smell is the jasmine oil some girl spilled on the front seat weeks ago and now I see the jasmine lines on the sides of the road, once a grander yellow, golden, fading to blend with the setting sun and it’s pretty, but I’ve seen this sunset before and I’ve been west before and this is not romantic. This eighty miles an hour is not romantic.