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InterText Vol. 8, No. 1 / January-February 1998
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Contents
The Worse Part..................................Neal Gordon
Ox-Plum Road....................................Hollis Drew
How Joe Found a Living......................Adam Harrington
The Year Before Sleep.......................Rupert Goodwins
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Editor Assistant Editor
Jason Snell Geoff Duncan
jsnell@intertext.com geoff@intertext.com
....................................................................
Submissions Panelists:
Bob Bush, Joe Dudley, Peter Jones, Morten Lauritsen, Rachel
Mathis, Jason Snell
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Send correspondence to editors@intertext.com or
intertext@intertext.com
....................................................................
InterText Vol. 8, No. 1. InterText (ISSN 1071-7676) is published
electronically every two months. Reproduction of this magazine
is permitted as long as the magazine is not sold (either by
itself or as part of a collection) and the entire text of the
issue remains unchanged. Copyright 1998 Jason Snell. All stories
Copyright 1998 by their respective authors. For more information
about InterText, send a message to info@intertext.com. For
submission guidelines, send a message to guidelines@intertext.com.
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The Worse Part by Neal Gordon
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When does a relationship cross the line from being in trouble to
being over?
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"I'm getting engaged, Rey," Liona says, squeezing lemon onto her
fried perch. She is a model, and her movements are fluid,
without cessation. The effect is that she always seems to be
moving. One movement becomes the next.
"But I thought that -- " I start, but I can't think of what to
say. We are in the diner on Ninth, doing what we always do
afterward. Having lunch. What can I say?
"That I'd wait for you?"
"That you _were_ waiting for me," I say leaning forward and
trying to look at her. I have long since learned the
difficulties in dating a very beautiful woman. Looking her in
the eye is difficult at best.
Liona takes a bite of her fish and says, "Rey, you're sweet, and
I'm glad you've finally made some decisions about Audra, but I'm
not going to be monogamous with you."
I push the mashed potatoes around on my plate. The mashed
potatoes I can look at. Homemade with lumps. The brown gravy is
a mix, too silky not to be. "It doesn't sound like you have
been," I say.
"No," she says and laughs, "but neither have you, if you think
about it. Regardless, I'm not going to marry you, so there's no
point in it." Then she adds, "This fish is delicious."
"Why not? We're good together," I say and manage to take a good
look at her. Like always, I want to stare.
"No, Rey, we're fun together."
"Exactly," I say. She is wearing a baseball cap and T-shirt and
jeans. Her informal dress helps. When she is dressed, I mean
_really_ dressed, it's like standing next to a person in a
spotlight. Everyone sees you, but only as an afterthought.
"No, those aren't the same thing," she says. "We wouldn't be
good together."
"What's the difference?"
"I enjoy you. You enjoy me, we have a fun time, but it's not
good."
"That sounds hypocritical."
"No, it's not. It's the truth. How could I ever trust you?"
The waitress returns and fills our water glasses. She looks at
my untouched plate and says, "Foodzallright?"
"Yes, fine," I say and stick a fork into the potatoes for her
approval. She smiles and wa
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