“I think it would look better over there,” she said, pointing over there.
He picked it up and moved it over there. “There,” he said, “what do you think?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Something’s not quite right. Maybe if you shift it a
little to the left?”
Without a word, he shifted it to the left.
“No,” she said, “that’s not it either. I don’t know what it is.”
“Maybe if you gave it a few days,” he suggested. “Maybe you just need to get
used to it.”
She gave it a few days.
“Nope,” she said, “still not doing it for me.”
“Maybe a little to the right?” he suggested.
“Give it a try.”
He moved it to the right. It was now exactly where he had first placed it when he brought it over there before he moved it a little to the left.
“Yes,” she said, “I think that’s it. Perfect!”
All rights. Peter Cherches.
Peter Cherches has published three volumes of short prose fiction with Pelekinesis since 2013, most recently Whistler’s Mother’s Son. His writing has also appeared in scores of magazines, anthologies, and websites, including Harper’s, Flash, Bomb, Semiotext(e), Litro, and Fiction International, as well as Billy Collins’ Poetry 180 website and anthology. He’s a native of Brooklyn, New York.
