Daily Prompt

Coble didn’t like his name much. Citing the fact that no one ever knew what he was saying when he stated his name. Covul? Cromul? Couldn’t they just use their ears and hear? Conveniently, Coble couldn’t stand speaking anyways. Calling a cab (with his hand NOT his mouth) he stepped partially into the street. Cabs never stopped like he wanted them to. Cold air hit him as he ducked into the vehicle.

“Central Park please.”

Cabbies always had a lead foot around Coble. Cafés sped by with patrons sitting comfortably drinks in hand. Chai tea sounded good, a girlfriend sounded good too but he shook that thought away.

“Can you just let me out here?”

Cab drivers were always rude around Coble. Couples littered the lawn like paper on Coble’s apartment floor. Crumpled paper was always everywhere and most of the time he didn’t even know where it came from. Coble smirked at the lie. Crumpled paper almost certainly always came from Coble and his math. Cutting through the park he couldn’t help but think of the number he couldn’t get out of his head. Couldn’t the number one just leave? Coble knew it wouldn’t, couldn’t leave. Crumpling to the ground he sat with his notes and really just wanted a nap. Casual napping wasn’t something Coble normally did. Cameras, Coble dreamt about cameras. Cameras were flashing, and making more noise than most objects should make. Confused, Coble opened his eyes. Clouds were above him but so was a girl, a girl with a camera.

“Couldn’t you close your eyes again?”

Coble was taken aback. Complying, he closed them.

“Can’t I have your name though?”



Chelsea stopped snapping pictures and Coble opened his eyes.

“Coble, what a pretty name!”

Contemplating this, copious amounts of considerations coursed through his brain. Carefully, he decided. “Couldn’t you come to dinner with me tonight Chelsea?”

Chelsea thought, snapped a picture and nodded.

Coble smiled. Coble wasn’t such a bad name after all and two was a much better number to have stuck in his head than one.



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2 responses to “Coble

  1. Pingback: Fearful Symmetry: Birthday Boy, You’re 8! | 3rdculturechildren

  2. Pingback: You leave us, back you make us proud! | The Hempstead Man

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