Saturday: An Ottawa Story - Four


Richard ran a towel through his still-damp hair as he descended the basement steps. He caught sight of David sitting at his desk, staring at the screen with a vaguely bemused expression and mumbling an indistinct melody. He had seen his friend in similar states before, a sort of "Dave-land" where anything fun or even mildly stimulating was prohibited for the sake of whatever obligation he currently had. Knowing no such level of concentration, Richard attempted a conquest of his own--


Saturday: An Ottawa Story - Three


The man-child gone for the time being, David swept Richard's bag to the floor and flopped onto the cracked yellow leather of the chesterfield, burying his face into the cushions to let out a prolonged, muffled moan. In less than ten minutes his Saturday tranquility had been utterly shattered, its shards trampled upon, melted down, and then skillfully blown into a glasswork manifestation of chaos. Richard had that effect.


Saturday: An Ottawa Story - Two


A few grumbled curses later, David stepped through the front door, Richard following a few feet behind, overnight bag slung over his shoulder.

"At least do me the courtesy of wiping your feet," David mumbled, whipping his slippers off his feet with a couple light kicks.

"The lack of faith in your fellow man is startling," Richard replied as he trod through the foyer and into the living room, mud-stained New Balances still clinging to his feet. "Good morning, Alex."

Alexis Merrick, professional grad student and David's better half, was stretched out over a pair of bean bag chairs in front of the TV, stirring the contents of her own cup of tea with a measure of disinterest and leafing through a European history textbook. She wasn't expecting the sight of a partially-unshaven Irishman heading her way with arms spread in expectation of embrace at any point in her day, this implying the opposite of a do-nothing Saturday, and so her response was less than enthusiastic.


Saturday: An Ottawa Story - One



Late that Saturday morning David Merrick strolled out onto his front porch, intending to finish the crossword he had started in the kitchen five minutes previous. Plopping onto the threadbare couch stationed in front of the living room window, he crossed one leg over the other and touched the semi-scalding mug of tea to his lips, observing October weather at its finest: overcast, accented by light wind blowing around the leaves that weren't rendered too heavy by the misty rain now in its second hour of falling. For most, dreary; for David, a welcome reprieve from a nearly month-long heat wave. He took in the autumn air, exhaled, and touched pen to newsprint.