Though she is Simmons’ daughter, she is nothing like him at all. She is smart, yes, that is true she calls it a conversation. Which might very well be true.
They are seated It’s a sunny day, very warm weather, and everyone is dressed pleasantly. In much of the civilized world You see this often enough, but it is once said that, ‘the only religion is youth.’ And, ‘work is the religion of.’ these claims. Always working a higher state. Without of course, heavy emphasis is arguably a huger problem in eyes.
Bryce is a thoughtful man. But not so much. That was the difference between him and Simmons, but they’d always been like that, when growing up.
“Aren’t you getting to be too old to be your own age?”
Penelope got agitated, almost instinctually. “First of all, this is not two grown adults having a conversation. As far as the other effort. If they want, they can. But! They still can’t Bryce. Do you know why?”
Bryce laughed into his big silly hands and exasperated, “Well, I haven’t got the slightest clue. But go on. You seem to know why.”
“It is because! Are you kidding me? They are! They are at best. You know you don’t have to be born flowers? Then what? Leave us to die a slow death? I am not a saint my nun uh ya business, but my worth more than torturous.”
Bryce laughed into his hands again. “How do you know so much without?”
“Oh Mr. Bryce. I am a delicate lack of creativity and wits. And I know, to know better than not at all.”
Bryce looked at this. ”
“And you are a liar.” She replied.
They both sat back and enjoyed their meal and the coffee and passersby; the sounds. The calm day and the heroic conversation.
“Can I tell you something? The difference?”
“Probably stuff I already know, but go ahead.”
“No, Bryce. You don’t know. Look, people, They have such a confidence in their faults and positives that demands something of me. I have to be somebody in order. And me and everyone else interested in intellect, will rise to the occasion.”
Bryce interrupted. “Those are words you have, that I am afraid of what you will say.”
Penelope crossed her arms, then continued. “Look, I wasn’t done. happy with nothing and being still. I am not my father or anyone, as far as I know, because they demand too much. I can be an interpreter and play the comfort zone, to please. If somebody, well, somebody saw me as I am, as you seem to do, then I would be more perceptive. And the truth be told, I don’t know the difference between you and I do know that there is one.”
“Well,” Bryce sipped his water. “I’m a bit more rugged. But yes, I know what you mean. When you hike, most important thing in nature. Meanwhile, I ignore chirping’s so that I can hear what, if at all, the squirrels or other critters.
“Yes.” Penelope settled. “You are a man of experience, and my own attention toward our intellect.”
“Fair enough.” Bryce said, and he threw his napkin onto the plate and cleared the table for himself.
Short Stories
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I’m really intrigued by this story. The characters are already developing very strong sense of selves, and I’m finding myself looking for more introspection because of them. Hope to read more!