Copyright © Emmi Lawrence
No one had ever sat in my office who could quite compare to Ari Nix. He had an insatiable, yet conflicting curiosity that did not breed questions. Rather, he just touched and poked at my things, chuckling under his breath at jokes to which only he knew the punch-lines. His nose crinkled constantly, in bemusement, disgust or delight, his emotions on parade across his face with little care over who might see them.
This man did not hide things. At least, he did not hide them well.
By the time I managed to cajole him into settling onto the bench, I had already discussed my last few books—which he lost interest in quickly—my taste in music—which he mocked incessantly—and my fashion sense—where he claimed my clothes needed a few more holes and much less grey. I disagreed silently and with a roll of internal eyes, but as I was enjoying his energy and discussion, I said nothing out loud of my thoughts.
“All right, Ari. Let’s get right to it. Since you’ve already pretty much introduced yourself, how are you feeling today?”
“Uh, good. I guess. At the moment at any rate. That might change.”
“Why might it change?”
He shrugged and rubbed at the frayed edges of the cushion. “Life throws things at me constantly. Luck takes its toll. You never know what might happen.”
“Of course. Luck is an interesting topic—”
“So are a great many things,” he interrupted. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay.” I glanced at my list of questions. “Are you involved with anyone right now?”
Ari did not have the same resistance as I, so when he rolled his eyes, it was a dramatic and very outward sign. “These questions are incredibly boring. Predictable. You need to ask more thought-provoking questions like… If you could know when and how you die, would you want to know?” Continue reading