Last week, Sam worshipped Delilah’s musical gift. Today, I am skipping forward a bit more in the dance club scene.
The set-up: Adam has walked away from his turntables to talk to Sam. He calls her “abnormal,” and Sam knows the man means it as a high compliment. Sam agrees, saying she’s “above average,” which Adam scoffs at before asking how much time he has to find a friend in the crowd. Given three minutes, Adam wastes no time leaving the stage. Sam is alone with his thoughts again.
What was normal, anyway? A state of being typical, or having equilibrium, or what? As Sam saw the world, it was populated by things that reasoned and furnished by things that didn’t. Molded, laser-cut, quality-controlled-to-be-identical things were either precise or flawed, so there wasn’t a normal. Or trailer park ghettos sandwiched between gentrified industrial towers for young professionals and suburban cul-de-sacs overrun by kids and DIY landscapers…all were normal to someone.
And speaking of people…there were eight billion unique humans all walking, crawling, or rolling their ways from birth to death with the commonality between them being that they were all aberrations from some unqualified normal.
Please check out the other authors at Six Sentence Sunday. Some of my favorites are Jayel Kaye, Sarah Ballance, Krystal Wade, Monica Enderle Pierce, Siobhan Muir, Sarah W., Pippa Jay, and Kelly Seguin.
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