Read Online You Are Here by Donald Breckenridge - Free Book Online Page B

Queens, “but you can’t really see it from here.”
    Stephanie lived in a small one-bedroom apartment on the fourth floor of a five-story walk up on 76 th Street near the corner of 37 th Avenue. Their shoulders were resting on the headboard as she asked, “Would you like a glass of wine?” He raised his eyebrows, “sure.” She swung her bare legs off the bed, “it’s probably not as good as what you’re used to.” “I’m no snob,” Alan admired her body, “and a glass of wine would be really nice,” as she walked across the bedroom. “There is a liquor store around the corner,” as she passed through the open door she added, “and they have a beautiful dog.” “Not a great selection,” he called after her, “but a beautiful dog?” She opened the refrigerator, “the selection is okay,” removed the bottle of Saint-Veran from the top shelf, “I guess…” pulled out the cork, “I mean I’m no expert,” and filled two juice glasses with the straw colored wine, “but the dog is very beautiful.” “Hey Stephanie,” he called again from the bed, “does this dog have a name?” She stood in the doorway, “yes,” and took a sip from her glass, “the dog’s name is Ali,” before re-crossing the bedroom, “it’s a German Shepherd.” Alan took the glass from her and asked, “Like Mohammed Ali?” Stephanie sat on the side of the bed, “it happens to be a she.” He grinned, “that’s strange.” “The owners are Asian,” she leaned back, “so I’m sure it means something else.” He tasted the wine, “this is nice.” “Well,” she raised her glass in a toast, “happy Father’s Day.”

Exclusions Apply—Part 1

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    â€œI t’s been such a gloomy week,” Janet had her hair and nails done the day before, “it’s like the entire city is in mourning again,” when the maid came to clean the apartment, “not that I blame them one bit… I was so depressed on Wednesday as well.” James couldn’t find anywhere to put his hands, “this week has been like one long hangover,” was at a loss for the right words, “before the next nightmare begins,” and was annoyed that all of the things he had prepared to say evaporated just after she buzzed him into her building and he began climbing the carpeted stairs with the bouquet in his right hand, “You know what I mean?” His political banter had been tailored by time-killing conversations with his left-leaning coworkers and customers who lingered by the cash register bending his ear with impassioned attacks on the half-witted president and the neo-con goons who were running the country into the ground. He swallowed hard, “I guess I should say before the nightmare continues.”
    She had kissed him hungrily on the mouth when he presented her with the dark red Gerber daises and happily exclaimed that they were one of her favorites. The light green stems nestled in a few inches of cold tap water were enlarged by the cylindrical crystal and tilted away from the curved lip of the vase, making the daises look like they were bowing before, or even humbled by, her spotless brightly-lit kitchen. They were thrown away on Monday.
    Janet found their conversation distracting, “Did you see Bush’s acceptance speech?” James was dressed in the clothes he wore to work, “it was on the radio at the store,” as he stood before her fidgeting, “I gotta man-date,” while silently recalling the episodes from his adolescence that he had deemed worthy of plying her with. “I really thought Kerry was going to win,” Janet walked to the refrigerator, “I didn’t at first but after the debates,” opened the door and produced a bottle of Veuve Cliquoit from a