AMOROUS MUSINGS

I like to read Laura’s blog posts out loud to myself with a large cup of black tea (heavy on both milk & sugar). I suggest you do the same.

regressioncurve:

It had just begun to rain, casually at first and then with a clearer sense of purpose, but the duo did not quicken their pace. The one on the left was slim. His parka was lime, his glasses rimless. He was of Nordic origin (the cut of his pants suggested somewhere just outside of Stockholm). The one on the right was large and brash, with a booming voice rife with vowels indigenous to Chennai. His jacket was long and navy and bore decorative epaulets. Unbuttoned, the whole thing flapped wildly about his person, giving him the appearance a reveler at a Revolutionary War theme party. He kept goading the Nordic to hurry up, or they would be late for the film. There are no commercials before the film, he stressed, we must make it on time. The Swede’s footfall remained unstressed, though in the forward bend of his neck, I sensed irritation. I decide they are both foreign scholars of mathematics, forced into a sort of awkward camaraderie by a paucity of other options, and by dint of effort on the part of a well-intentioned though oblivious department chair. I conclude too that the Nordic has a young wife waiting at home in a well-lit apartment. She spends a lot of time baking things filled with butter and jam, and nods in sympathy when he expresses irritation at having to socialize with this particular colleague on Friday evenings.