"Wallace looked harmless anyway."

Time for another webring post and this week is my topic.

"Open up the nearest book or publication. Go to the middle of the book and select the sentence that comes at the top of the page. From this sentence, draft a very short bit of fiction, the zanier the better. I'm thinking no more than 100 words, but closer to 50."

I've decided to write about a creepy man who's taken a liking to me during my morning commutes.

* * *

Wallace looked harmless anyway.* That's what I told myself.

Unassuming and cleanly dressed, Wallace was a five foot nine, skinny man haunting the periphery of my mornings. He appeared as an unfocused shape of dark and light on the Morgan Avenue subway platform, the same business casual uniform day in and day out -- black Members Only-esque jacket over a white dress shirt, dark trousers, and generic black lace-up shoes. Everything about him looked generic. No tie. No briefcase. He always stood ten or fifteen feet away from me on the platform, far enough that I could only observe the most basic of physical details. Maybe that was his way of staying inconspicuous.

Wallace could have been a ghost, but instead he was my L train stalker. Lately he has been getting bold, slowly weaving his way through the crowded train car so that he hovered mere inches away from me. This morning I felt him pressed up against from behind, his warm exhale punctuating against my exposed neck. Our near equal height had us spooning. And as I shifted away, he matchced my movements like a tenacious suitor.

* From, "Motherless Brooklyn" by Jonathan Letham. P. 144.

For other takes on this topic see:

A Prize In Every Box | Write Again Soon | Wish to See | Bad Apologies | A Little Maryment | Lugnochro