The Ride
flash fiction | lines
Randy summed up his complaints. “I don’t want to go back.”
There was a pause, as if to ensure the protests were exhausted. “You don’t have to.” Although the response came off with the practiced patience you might expect from a DMV employee, a postal clerk, or any bureaucrat who has heard it all, Randy finally calmed.
“But you might change your mind later.” There was a brief glance at the line before returning to Randy. “Some say it’s like an irresistible amusement park ride.”
Randy suppressed any agreement. “Except it kills you.”
A hint of deja vu prevailed. “Some rides are better, some worse. But despite everything, folks still line up.”
Randy looked down. “I rode one. Once. I threw up and my neck hurt for three days.”
“That happens.” Silence stretched. “But you don’t need me to tell you there can be good times.” A beat passed. Composed. Understanding. “Look, you’ve got to decide for yourself. But you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t interested.” The silence expanded as an expectant vacuum. “Even so, like any roller coaster, there are usually lines.”
“That’s just another reason not to go back.”
“True. That’s why some people get in line and put off any decision until they get to the front. And by the way, some people decide to go back just because they want to see if they can do it better.”
Randy looked up. “Whatever. But I don’t get why there’s such a long line, anyway.”
“Supply and demand. There’s a lot of old people. But there’s a lot fewer younger people having kids.”
Randy took a breath. Resisting the inevitable. “What if I mess up again?”
A softer pause this time. “That’s a common concern.” The energy between them seemed to pulse. “They still get in line.”
by George Alger
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