Julio

Seen on the Purple Line to the Loop at about 6:00 p.m., November 29^th, 2012

“They’ll make you look so handsome. So trendy!” Before he could object, Anita pulled the only pair of glasses he’d owned for ten years off his face and snapped them in half. Then she shoved the new pair on, adjusting their frames with her too-long fake fingernails. “Now they’ll see you as up-to-date! Not just some old man,” she said. “No more rejection for you.”

How could more rejection hurt him? Julio had already rejected himself, and the new glasses certainly didn’t give him any confidence. He bowed his balding, egg-shaped head towards his egg-shaped body in shame. The frames were a little too round to be egg-shaped, and thick. Bulky. It was not a flattering combination. They sat heavy and wrong on his nose. They weighed him down like his failure.

Julio knew what the interviewers would see: a pathetic old man trying to look young and making a terrible mess of it. He might even look sleazy, like someone that tries to sleep with women half his age. (Not that he looked like he might succeed in sleeping with women half his age.) Anita thought she was helping him, but Julio knew he was past help. He didn’t have the tech-savviness to be hired. He didn’t have the advanced degree. He didn’t have the restless ambition of youth. No glasses could save him now.

Remember how I said the word count of my novel would go up and up and up? I started editing the chapters I already have last night, and the word count actually went down. I suppose that's a good thing, though. Kill ALL the word puppies.

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