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Aug. 13th, 2015 01:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
astillarThat's how I knew it was definitively, completely, utterly over.
Jane's comedy troupe was doing their last performance. The structure of it was, no troupe could win more than 4 times in a row. This was their fourth performance. So no matter how good they did, this was the last time. I went, of course. I'd been invited and they were a good group. Aside from non-relatives, I was the only consistent groupie. The challenger duo was exceptional. Jane's group was pretty good. I sat with Nan, as per usual. But somehow I missed the explanation/whatever following the performances. I hadn't bothered to submit my vote as I assumed that the outcome could only point one direction. It was a brief exposition; according to Nan, Jane's group won again.
In my own words, Jane's group's main advantage was that it was slower paced and more approachable than the challenger's razor-sharp efforts. Once again, Sally was the group's Hail Mary pass, crawling in like an amputee.
So their group won, for what it's worth. This time around I'd actually taken the train to the show so I was genuinely checking the time to see when I would have to leave. At this time of day the train only runs once every half hour so I couldn't be too casual (?) about it. As we were all departing though, Jane and Nan inquired as to where I was parked/situated/whatever. They volunteered to give me a ride to the train station where my truck was parked.
I sat in the back seat. My buzz was still fluent enough that I could interject into their conversation as was appropriate. The conversation primarily centered around the night's performance and then angled towards more mundane matters, such as Nan's doctor's appointments or how the animals were doing. As all that was going on my eyes were continually fixed on Jane's profile. I could see her luminous skin, the nuances of her profile, her lustrous hair . . . but not once did she divert her gaze towards me. Always she looked forward. She never looked back to see how I was doing; never cast a concerned look behind her. If I had met her gaze just once, for a moment, I would have felt something. But I never saw her eyes. They looked beyond and above me. That's how I knew.
Jane's comedy troupe was doing their last performance. The structure of it was, no troupe could win more than 4 times in a row. This was their fourth performance. So no matter how good they did, this was the last time. I went, of course. I'd been invited and they were a good group. Aside from non-relatives, I was the only consistent groupie. The challenger duo was exceptional. Jane's group was pretty good. I sat with Nan, as per usual. But somehow I missed the explanation/whatever following the performances. I hadn't bothered to submit my vote as I assumed that the outcome could only point one direction. It was a brief exposition; according to Nan, Jane's group won again.
In my own words, Jane's group's main advantage was that it was slower paced and more approachable than the challenger's razor-sharp efforts. Once again, Sally was the group's Hail Mary pass, crawling in like an amputee.
So their group won, for what it's worth. This time around I'd actually taken the train to the show so I was genuinely checking the time to see when I would have to leave. At this time of day the train only runs once every half hour so I couldn't be too casual (?) about it. As we were all departing though, Jane and Nan inquired as to where I was parked/situated/whatever. They volunteered to give me a ride to the train station where my truck was parked.
I sat in the back seat. My buzz was still fluent enough that I could interject into their conversation as was appropriate. The conversation primarily centered around the night's performance and then angled towards more mundane matters, such as Nan's doctor's appointments or how the animals were doing. As all that was going on my eyes were continually fixed on Jane's profile. I could see her luminous skin, the nuances of her profile, her lustrous hair . . . but not once did she divert her gaze towards me. Always she looked forward. She never looked back to see how I was doing; never cast a concerned look behind her. If I had met her gaze just once, for a moment, I would have felt something. But I never saw her eyes. They looked beyond and above me. That's how I knew.
