Better Than Fiction

I'm in Russ & Daughters to buy some dried fruit. An assortment of plums, peaches, and pears. A wild-eyed man in a seersucker suit walks in behind me, letting the sound of the daytime traffic on Houston howl in through the door. He kneels down and examines the frosted beverages case. Someone in an apron asks if he can be of assistance. "Cel-Ray soda," says the man, before finding one green can right near the back. He whistles while he waits to pay then exclaims "La recherche du temps perdu!" as the cashier hands over his change.

I've known for a while now that I will probably never write a novel. There's a fantastic story already unfolding in front of me, and I know all too well that only in my wildest fantasies would I be capable of coming up with characters who could ever equal the reality of a Proust-quoting, seersucker-wearing man looking for a Cel-Ray soda in Russ & Daughters.

© Zan McQuade. All rights reserved.