Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.
Hosted each week by Denise, all we’re asked to do is write a story of six (and only six) sentences.
So we continue this oddly interesting meeting of the Sophomore and the tall, thin man. Our last encounter.
Prompt word:
CRAFT
“Let’s say, just for the sake of argument, I accept your claim of being a time-traveler; as far as I can tell, you got the other Proprietors, if not believing you, at least are willing to give you the benefit of the doubt,” the fingers of the young man’s hands on the arms of his chair went from being triangles to lying in a row; spotting this reaction, the tall, thin man leaned forward, “aka humoring the kid’.”
“That’s not very ‘you’ of you to take that particular tact,” the Sophomore, marginally more upright in his chair, his pupils dilating as his nostrils flared, any prize fighter stepping into the ring.
Seeing uncertainty and anger grow in the older man’s face, he hastened to add, “What I mean to say is, courtesy of my putative knowledge of the past…. your past, that kinda sneery, faux-crafty response is for a personality type that you are not.”
The young man with long hair and a head full of fear added, “You, ‘Mr T. Thin Man’ sir, suspect I am who I say I am, but fear of the implications has you as tangled up as an octopus in a bowl of warm spaghetti.”
“Fuck you,” the Proprietor pushed away from the desk like a third grader from his cafeteria tray on Welsh Rarebit Day.
The phones on the desk began to ring, vibrate mode making them move randomly across the surface, digital Mexican jumping-Chiclets; a million miles, (and decades of life) away from the Six Sentence Café and Bistro, the tall, thin man considered which phone to answer first.
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