Here is my short story for today’s Friday Fiction post – “Binoculars”. Typo hunters, welcome. If you like my work, check out my fiction collection, Crushes.
I liked his binoculars hanging down his back. One of the eye pieces was missing a cap. I touched the cold dark green metal and told him I liked them. He turned around, backed his head up, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He smiled and went about is day, picking up a box of oatmeal, some Tums, and a bag of disposable razors. When he looked at me, I picked up a set of razors, too. He didn’t smile that time. I walked faster than him to get ahead. In the self-checkout, his card wouldn’t work. I tapped his shoulder, careful not to touch his binoculars. When he turned his head to look at me, his binoculars bounced against his arm. I told him I’d buy his stuff if he’d let me look through his binoculars. I held out my bag with the razors in it. He looked behind him, beside him, and then handed the binoculars to me. My bag crumpled against his leg as I brought the lenses to my eyes. Save big. Lights and skin. Speckles of denim. Surgeon general warning. The rims of someone’s glasses. Gray concrete. My plastic of my bag of razors crinkled in his squeeze.
When I handed the binoculars back to him, he asked me what I saw. I said the most. He said interesting and held out my bag of razors. I told him to keep them. He sat them on the bagging area. The people in line behind us coughed. I took my razors home.