A Name

The plot arc was loosely modeled after James Joyce's short story "Eveline".

Nora’s finger stopped on a name. The M pages of her address book were filled. When she skimmed through the middle of the first page, she laid the pencil she was twirling on the couch. The gray lines of the entry were scuffed, particles of graphite spreading out sideways like a shadow.

The address was for a tiny studio apartment on the ground level of a building that no longer existed. They pinned a sheet over the window so that people across the alley couldn’t look into the corner by the bed.

The name was written the summer Nora became obsessed with cursive. She had used the same loops and lines to fill out the forms for her marriage license, before the clerk asked her to fill them out again in print.

Nora looked up at the picture frames above the fireplace of her parents and college friends. Her fingers tightened around the cover of her book as though they were holding the binding together.

Taped on the studio wall was a string of photo booth pictures. Her hand trembled in the air. She placed them in a book to bring home. They must have slipped out on the bus.

Nora put the book down. She picked up the napkin where a friend had scribbled his number. After dinner they had walked around. They passed an empty lot.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Fine” she said. She looked down at the sidewalk for a block.

At her door, she tiptoed to kiss him, stretching more than she needed. She opened her eyes and found herself above his eye level. She lowered her heels to the ground.

She picked up the book from her lap, pressing the napkin to the page with her thumb. She picked up the pencil, turned it upside down, and scratched it side to side across the page.