A short story of Georgie’s high hopes murder

de Ioana Zaharia

Young Georgie walked that road many a time. He knew every root, bench and rusty piece of fence. He knew every bump and crack on that sidewalk well enough to get his eyes off the ground to watch the sunset as he paced and still not trip.

He’d never seen her. Not once.

He’d hoped to, but didn’t really know what would make a good greeting anyway.

That particular day felt different. Georgie’s mouth smelled of fresh bunch onion and he knew. He thought to himself:

‘Today is the day I meet her. Today is the day because my clothes are not ironed properly and my mouth smells of bunch onion.’

Billy Ray’s ‘achy breaky heart’ was filling up his ear drums when he decided to take those earbuds out and listen to the messed-up sounds of the noisy downtown.

What a day! It was not the sun that was bothering young Georgie, since it’s been encouragingly cloudy all day. In fact, those clouds were precisely what made Georgie put up his mind to that unfinished business he had been promising himself to attend to for weeks.

But the gloomy sky was far from sheltering the city from the cruel, sultry evening.

Thank God Georgie’s business downtown didn’t take too long.

Right after finishing it, instead of going straight home, our Georgie turned back a few steps and made his way through the entrance of the nearest market to buy a bottle of water.

He bought it, got out of the shop, drank a little and growled because the water was icy cold.

Then, just as he was putting the damn cold bottle of water in his backpack, he saw her.

She was walking down the sidewalk as he was walking upwards. His heart skipped a beat and young Georgie grasped the air a little harder.

He smiled his kindest smile, looked her directly in the eye and said:

‘Hey there!’

She shortly caught his eye, let no emotion reach young Georgie and coldly said:


Young Georgie’s smile faded away as he thought:

‘That might have been the most common encounter in my existence.’

‘Unreasonably and disappointingly common.’

‘How great a fool I was’, he would go on, pulling fantasies about her out of his stupid head.

So simple…

That God damn cold bottle of water in the midst of a sultry evening…a short story of Georgie’s high hopes murder.

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