Allister Cromley's Fairweather Belle (Bedtime Stories For Grownups To Tell)
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A Conversation

10/10/2009

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Allister was once beckoned off the street by an incomprehensible conversation. The hollow echoes of the words floated through the air and tugged on his ear. And he followed, led to a cafe table bubbling with conversation and the punctutional bursts of laughter. 

And, wouldn't you know it, there was a chair open and waiting. So, though Allister knew no one there and (what's more) knew nothing of their conversation, he accepted the invite of the open chair.

He ordered a coffee and smiled and not an eye was batted. Just nods and smiles in return. And, following the melody of the conversation, Allister spoke when it was time for his verse and laughed with everyone when it was time to crescendo. 

And, oh the places the conversation took them, fists pounding the wood of the table to emphasize importance and hands open and flailed back in the air on arms with whimsical glee (sometimes followed by tea or coffee shooting out of nostrils).

There were colors and shapes and wrinkles and lines and smiles and frowns and vice versas multiplied by forty and then some. And, when coffee and tea (multiplied by seconds and thirds) were finished and the conversation reached it's climax, Allister arose from his chair and exited the cafe. And, smiling, he walked into the warmth of the sunrays that were called to him for that very moment. 

Not once during and not once after did Allister have any idea what language they were speaking. It was questionable whether anyone there knew, though Allister knew that was far from the point.
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