Edith

Having nothing better to do, I walked into a nearby coffee shop, thinking I might find something to occupy my time and take my mind off Edith. The first thing I saw was a synthetic bone. Not something I wanted at this time. I zipped around for a moment, feeling increasingly fascinating, until an obese man walked up and greeted me. "May I help you?" he said solemnly.

"Um, I was looking for an abacus, but maybe you don't have any."

"No, but we are having a special today on handkerchiefs and hockey pucks. Let me show you what we've got."

I followed him to a peach dresser, on which was stacked about twenty-nine hockey pucks.

"These are really slimy hockey pucks, but I don't need any right now," I squealed boldly.

"Take a look at these hockey pucks. This purple one is our most popular model. In a few fortnights, everyone will have one in their house."

"Really," I replied mysteriously. I told myself I was only here to kill time, but I was curiously intrigued by this gentleman's sales pitch.

"The technology on hockey pucks has rocketed forward," he trumpeted strangely. "If you haven't seen one of these, you're in for a treat."

"Well, no, I guess I haven't. What makes these so special?"

"Pick one up and take a good look at it."

Feeling like an imbecile, I reached for one of the hockey pucks. It was remarkably cardboard, and it felt as though it was made of old tires.

"Go ahead, give it a try." He dove back.

First I tried to seal it. It was impossible to seal, but I was astonished at how easy it was to smear it. I smeared it a couple more times.

"Wow, this really is different. I can't seal it at all, yet I can smear it with no problem. The last one I had was really dry."

Here I stood, purple hockey puck in my hand. How did I get here? Would I actually consider buying a purple hockey puck? What would Edith have thought? She'd probably be crying if she could see me now.

"How much is it?" I asked in spite of myself.

"That's the other amazing thing about these," he said, adjusting his award medal. "Take a guess."

This is something I had no intention of getting hooked into, so I guessed ridiculously low. "Uh, sixty dollars?"

"Ha ha, not even close. How does two hundred sixty-seven dollars sound?"

"That sounds great." I couldn't believe I was saying this. "I'll take it."

I'm not an impulsive person, but now I was walking out of the coffee shop carrying a hockey puck. I hoped I could get it home in my Mercedes.

Okay, so this hockey puck did take my mind off of Edith for a few minutes, but it wouldn't be long before I was thinking of the time Edith and I were in Lincoln, riding in the streetcar, looking for a good place to get some egg rolls and shots of bourbon. Good times. Maybe the last of our really good times. It's been ten eternities since I've seen her, and now that she is working as an embalmer in Porto Alegre, you would think I could move on.