Zane Safrit

“The Waiting Room” by Zane Safrit

Submitted to Contest #49

Hey. I add a chin nod to this greeting muffled behind my face mask and a thin smile she can’t see. No one can see. That’s our life now. Yesterday, I’d watched videos of how to act in social-distancing and how to act in social settings of any sort. They had titles like ‘3 Ways to NOT Be a Jerk” and “Respect Personal Space” and “When and How to Use Personal Pronouns.” It had been so long since I’d been out of the house I wasn’t sure I remembered. But as I watched these flickering images of stilted settings memories returned. They’re pret...

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“Your Day to Run” by Zane Safrit

Submitted to Contest #47

You started on time. Out the door at 6 AM, reaching the trail head at 6:15. Stretch to 6:25, running no later than 6:30. You’d even turned down meeting some old friends over a good burger and a few shots. These were friend friends. Driving through from Wyoming to Connecticut. Friends with whom you’d walked side-by-side through marriages, jobs, divorces. It’ll be fun. It would be. Tonight. Your pace is hard but not so hard that you couldn’t talk with someone about some thing. Anything. But that’s why you’re running or is it the other...

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“Just. Write.” by Zane Safrit

Submitted to Contest #46

I’m awake. Sorta. Others might take issue. A lawyer might argue “Your honor, my client’s sense of right and wrong...” and then as the judge rolls their eyes “... and as we’ve seen from expert testimony...” A neuro surgeon might debate brain structure and functioning and order more tests from the hospital whose website claims of its ‘world-class care’ reveals its own brain dead copywriter, ad agency and marketing department who approved the website. The lawyer might then use that brain-dead cliche’ as evidence that his/her/non-binary client i...

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“I'm Fred” by Zane Safrit

Submitted to Contest #43

Googlido, he said outloudSiri apologized, said she didn’t understand. Google... Lee... DoNopeGoogle... Lee ... Dew. El E... E... Dew like rain. Nope.Lee Diu. D... Eye ... YouSiri asked if that was what he was looking for.Google Lee Doo. D... O... O... He thanked Siri. She said nothing. She’s not good with appreciation, either. Something to work on, he said.Siri pops back up. ‘Go ahead... I’m listening.’ If Siri was a dog she’d be an Australian sheep herder, head tilting to the side, ready to race off at his command. He listened to hummi...

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“He'll Come Tomorrow” by Zane Safrit

Submitted to Contest #42

A blue corrolla sputtered past, its muffler sounding like a fart cushion squeezed soft and slow. I pictured a Shriner’s mini-car at the front of a Thanksgiving Day Parade, driven by a tassled fez hat-wearing driver. The morning’s parade had already started. There’re no homecoming-like tractor-pulled flatbeds with members of the high school Homecoming Court waving to cheering friends and family. There’re no floats of Mardi Gras Krewes festooned with lovely ladies and lads tossing plastic beads to screaming crowds. This 5-day a week parad...

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“Sweet Distraction” by Zane Safrit

Around 11 AM every morning I walk or bike a few blocks to the town square for a few minutes, okay 30 minutes, of peace and quiet for my work-brain and from Morgan’s persistent efforts at attention. Morgan, aka Morg-Morg aka Morgan the Monster. He’s a malamute, 12 months old, weighing 90 pounds with his hips already reaching my beltline. Yeah, he’s a monster. Loves kids, loves kids to wrestle with him and jump on my back and belly. Can’t get enough. Kids know this somehow and they runn to him anytime and anywhere we see them. ‘Ninety-poun...

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“Secrets” by Zane Safrit

Submitted to Contest #37

Secrets between lovers are like blinders on a horse. They help us focus. Our touch, a laugh, a sigh. They can carry us through a whole weekend. Standing in the middle of his office he remembered her laughing when he told her this on their first weekend together. They’d been drinking coffee in the well-appointed kitchen of the victorian Air BnB. She’d wanted to know about his family and his dog, ‘You had a dog, right? You like dogs?’ and his ‘first time.’ Like an overmatched boxer, he’d bobbed and weaved, sometimes clutching her just bef...

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