Flash Friday 2-28-14 three ways of looking at Claire is changing her name in Flash Friday

The Dialogue

“She sets the martini on the piano top. It falls and spills on the keys. She stares at the gin spilling through the keys. She tips the candle over and the keys ignite. Her face is lit. Camera pans and fades out with red filter. That’s the end what do you think?”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s because you have a black little heart, like obsidian. It’s too emotionally charged for you.”

“Oh. Yeah. That part is bullshit too. But a martini doesn’t start a fire from a candle, even if you held the flame to it. It’s just gin, eighty proof, and it’s a bit watered down from being shaken with ice, more so with the spritz of vermouth and even more so with the olives.”

“You think you’re so smart.”

“I do. But I don’t have to be to know that. You have any gin? A lighter?”

“No, gin is for little old ladies.”

“You have any little old ladies?”

“Not on me.”

“Ah, so you write the final scene for dramatic effect with a substance you’ve never drank that’s for an age and gender you’ve never had and are defensive of my opinion which you forced out of me. Yes, I think I am so smart. Keep the scene just change the drink to kerosene. That’s served with pearl onions.”

“Fuck you.”

“Good idea, maybe we could start a fire with friction. Let’s do it on a piano.”

The Song

The exposition

She gave me a tree when I was born. I mean she gave my parents a heavy bond off white piece of paper, like diploma’s or awards are printed on, saying a tree was planted in Israel to honor my birth. Aunt Claire. She was Aunt Claire then.

She gave me a star for my eighteenth birthday. Again it was a piece of paper, saying some little light that was something like E175dotb1407 was now named after me. I forget who she was then, Aunt Lakedust or something, she was living in a commune or ashram or something then.

When I got married it was just a hallmark card with a cashier’s check. I don’t remember what she signed it or if she signed it. The only reason I knew it was from her is who the fuck else would do that?

Last week I got a call from the Clark County Sherriff’s department asking me if I could identify the body. I told them that I couldn’t. They told me the Clark County Sherriff’s Department didn’t have a sense of humor. Instead of telling them that no one without a sense of humor refers to themselves in the third person plural I told them I wasn’t trying to be funny, that if I’d ever actually seen her I sure didn’t recall. They said my name was in her address book under nephew.

I drove down to Clark County. I honestly said I’d never seen that body before in my life, living or dead, and what would happen if no one identified her. Something about cremation. I asked for a few minutes and a cup of coffee.

I honestly don’t know who that is under the small marble headstone that reads Claire Stevens, Beloved Aunt. It’s not really the point, Sometimes you have to claim a body to own one. I know where she is now or at least where her name is. It’s not like you can give a tree or a star bac