What Was Her Name? - Flash Fiction


She told me her name was Eleanor and I asked if her parents named her after that famous song. She looked at me like I was crazy, only to smile and say - yeah, I was named after that song. Seems they had sex one night while listening to that entire album and then nine months later, I showed up. I raised my cup of coffee to her in salute to a great story about where she came from. I then asked her if she was lonely like her. Eleanor looked at me strangely, then shrugged and went silent. I finished my coffee, placed a tip on the table, then stood up and stretched my arms. She looked at me with now imploring eyes and I couldn't help but wonder if she wanted me to finish her story and tell it to the world. Instead, I smiled and waved goodbye, then left the coffeehouse and walked on. I could feel her staring at me, wondering if perhaps I would return to that table with stale gum underneath it and ask her more questions. I wanted to get home because I could feel the tears coming upon me. I knew that I wouldn't be able to hold them back once they began to fall. I finally reached my apartment with great relief, went inside to my living room, and then bawled my eyes out. I am lonely, I thought as I cried and held my head in my hands. I was utterly lonely like that woman in that infamous song, and I had no one to keep my face in a jar for me. I continued to cry until my face felt tight, then got up and placed a warm wet towel over it. I took a deep breath and wondered about all of the Eleanors of the world; what were they doing right now? Were they lonely? Were they walking down barren streets with no one to talk to? I took the towel off my face and returned to my living room to sit on the floor. I felt cool arms wrapping themselves around me, arms belonging to the ghosts of those who tried to warn me that Life would be unfair. I closed my eyes.  


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