Fifty Ways, The Loop

Grabbing thick folds of her faux fur coat, he shakes her viciously. Fear flashes briefly in her eyes, she looks through the open door of the airplane at neat rows of vineyards below.

As she is propelled out the door, a look of horror fills his eyes and he throws his body out into the void, attempting to put the genie back in the bottle and the moving image freezes.

Samuel Jackson’s cursing resonates in the dome of the relatively quiet San Luis Obispo public library, drawing the attention of several people seated at tables and carrels.

Like the one where he sits, his eyes focused on the LCD of a Macbook, his brobdignian fingers shaking with impatience over the delicate-looking backlit querty keyboard.

His little finger taps a key and the scene in the monitor jumps back to the close up of her mocking smile. He stares at it, compresses his lips and shakes his head.

A voice behind him says, you have to warp the timeline, Pops. He turns his head, a look of incredulity rising in his eyes as he sees the diminutive Alex standing behind him.

Removing the noise-canceling headset from his head, he smiles and in a tone of mildly patronizing condescension, he says, how the fuck would you know?

Really, Alex says, want me to show you?

Lifting his heavy frame from the hard seat of the small wooden chair, Samuel stands. Sure. Go ahead. Show me.

Grabbing thick folds of her faux fur coat, he shakes her viciously. Fear flashes briefly in her eyes, she looks through the open door of the airplane at neat rows of vineyards below.

 

 

 

 

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