|(c) Eve Le Dez|
Hawk glanced down the table quickly, trying for nonchalance. He always looked, but the view never changed. Either Concho had a locker full of black leather pants and vests, or he always wore the same ones. Hawk knew there'd be black boots under the table, and the belt with its hammered silver circles that echoed the man's name. He wore nothing else, save a silver chain around his neck and a black head scarf that served to keep long, greasy black hair out of his face. A narrow black mustache framed his thin lips, and his dark, almost black eyes were fixed on his bowl.
"Hey, why don't you come sit up here, keep me company while we eat?" he called.
He had to strain to hear the quiet, "Nope."
Hawk slowly finished his sandwich, vowing he wouldn't say anything more, but the pressure of silence was too great, and as he stood to return his plate to the recycler, he asked Concho's slender back and broad shoulders, "Why not?"
And Concho replied, as he always did, "Because I don't like you," then went on spooning up his soup.
Read more at http://www.wildeoats.com/fiction_hawksflight.html.
About the author
Brian once tried to live a normal life, but was unable to figure out what it was. Now, when not writing down the stories characters insist on whispering in his ears, he photographs the beautiful Oregon coast, as well as his friends and family when they will hold still for it. Brian reads almost anything, loves listening to jazz and pop, and sings along when he remembers the words. The rest of his time is spent in trying to keep his multiple personalities happy - or at least not fighting one another. Brian believes that his writing would still exist only in a dusty pile of spiral-bound notebooks if it weren't for the dedication and encouragement of some great online friends and his writing group, the WordCrafters.
Illustration: Eve Le Dez