Booze, love, fancy photos and short stories about Generation End
Candy

CHASING CANDY ON EASTER

At first, nothing worked with Candy. Funny texts didn’t work. Funny Facebook messages didn’t work. She’d be interested for a moment but then stop responding. Maybe she was too smart for me. Maybe I wasn’t that funny.

I’d never chased someone with a PhD before and something about it scared me. The more I thought about her and her accomplishments, the more awkward and tense I became whenever we spoke. One evening, after much dread, I finally decided to ask her to go to some jazz event with me.

“Sorry I’d love to, but I’m lecturing that evening.”

“How about another evening?”

Silence.

I saw her again at an Easter dinner by the Eagle Street Pier. She was sitting with a bunch of girls, laughing about something, probably about how attractive and successful they were. I found a spare spot right next to her and sat down.

“Hi,” I said. I’d been drinking.

“Hi.”

I noticed her camera on the table, picked it up and took a photo of her. I smiled but she didn’t.

She grabbed it back from me. “What are you doing?”

I looked around: everyone was staring straight at us, at me. “Fuck!” I stood up and stumbled away.

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