Written with my Thursday night group with the prompts: four seasons, scarcity, paradoxical, starts working instantly, 3,000 miles, money, it’s a breeze, pockets of resistance, until I begin to write, have I ever told you the story of. . ., listening, Argentina, they moo
Jenny wanted to go to Argentina, but when she pulled on her Levis, she encountered pockets of resistance.
Her sister Lydia would not accept this explanation. “You pull those pockets inside out and show me what you’ve got in there,” she demanded.
Jenny was reluctant. In her right hip pocket, she had ordinary things—a key to her gym locker, a roll of antacids that promised to work instantly, and a tiny plastic cow that mooed when you pressed its head just right. But in her left hip pocket she had 3,000 miles of paradoxical scarcity and two of the four seasons. The problem was she could never be sure which two seasons would show up since seasons are, by nature, always changing. She tried not to open her pockets during winter and summer, but it was quite pleasant to allow autumn and spring to drift out into the room. She patted her pockets and decided it wasn’t a good time to be revealing.
But Lydia had spent a lot of money on the plane tickets so the sisters could go to Argentina and learn to tango.
Jenny hated to disappoint her sister but the wind was whipping through her belt loops and she could barely stay vertical. “Have I ever told you the story—” she began, but a summer hurricane slipped through a ripped seam in her left pant leg and nearly dragged her across the floor.
“I’m listening,” Lydia said petulantly, her arms crossed and her right foot tapping in annoyance.
Luckily the storm passed quickly, even as the contents of Jenny’s pockets spilled onto the floor. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Lydia asked.
Jenny managed to climb up on her knees. “Oh, sure,” she said sarcastically. “It was a breeze.”
She began to collect her things—her cow and her keys and her TUMS, when she saw her favorite fountain pen rolling onto the carpet.
“I didn’t know you were in there,” she whispered to the pen. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Ready for Argentina now?” Lydia said cheerfully.
“Uh huh,” Jenny agreed. “As soon as I finish writing.”
Photo by DESIGNECOLOGIST on Unsplash
