Ernest Hemingway

“It is peculiar the way a day works out… the way it moves and develops into it’s own individual story.” he said looking thoughtfully at his friend.

“I hadn’t thought of it… like that,” the friend replied softly, considering the thought, “And each day in it’s distinct difference from the others could be considered to have a pers0nally distinct author.”

“Yeah…. what a thought!” He replied staring blankly at the wall, then back down at the book he was currently engaged in reading. “So who wrote your day today?”

The friend laughed, filled with an enjoyment at the premise of the question, “I don’t know…. Ernest Hemingway?” he replied, still with a grin on his face.

A man in a casual suit and brimmed hat sat paces away from the two friends. The man wasn’t truly eavesdropping but instead sat listening to the conversation with an intrigued joy in his ear. He occasionally sipped his coffee as the friends carried on lost in theory and speculation.

“How about your day, who has written you day?”

“Ha! I’m not sure,” he laughed again, “I can see some Twain influence upon this day I’ve had, and maybe some Tom Wolfe….. ha ha, if that even makes sense!”

With that being said the man reached into the inside breast pocket of his black, pressed suit and retrieved a thin, condensed copy of the scriptures. He looked fondly upon the book and after taking the final sip from his now done cup of coffee, he stood and moved toward the friends. The two continued in conversation and laughter, not yet aware of his presence, as the well dressed gentleman approached. Once he reached the table the friends finally acknowledged him and quieted as he stood peacefully over their meeting. He stayed upright and silent for a few moments, simply staring at each of them with a large, exuberant smile over his countenance. Finally he broke the tension….

“The author, young fellows, is God. The author, is God.” And in saying this he set the small bible down on their table, left it with a pat,  then smiled graciously at the friends and turned in exiting the cafe with a profound coolness in his walk.

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