What The Geese Heard

Angelinna Faisca

What The Geese Heard 

A short story by Angelinna Faisca

For the Creative Writing Column


She walked. A stumble, maybe. There was no witness. It was New Year’s Eve, with nowhere to go. He too, right down the street, wandering blindly to no destination. These two, both strangers, are people who have never seen the light of each other. They have never seen the sparkle in her eyes when she reads a good book, or the way he had sulked yesterday, at the loss of an opportunity. It was up until then, that they had crossed. A bump here and there, along with the sorries that had been done and said. But it was the spark, and a few quick glances, that paved the way. 


“Happy New Year!” He had said, with a quick look. She said something that was murmured. He now looked worried, in some way, or another. 


She quickly said, “It isn’t twelve yet.” Her face upturned in a rude manner.


“It will be though, eventually.” He replied, keeping his polite tone. “Do you have anywhere to go?” The streetlamp had glistened upon his face, angelically. 




“Just wanted to know.” He sat, after walking near some steps. 


She did the same, as they neared the park. Her large coat covering her boots, stained with mud. 


They sat, their mouths moving, with few laughs here and there. They sat like pairs of geese, their flow never cut off, and always in motion. The conversation held up like this for a while, before their hourglass had ran out, it seemed. 


She got up, “I must be going.” 


“Must you go?”


She hesitated. Must I really? She had notioned to herself. 


She stood there.


“Must you go?” He repeated his desolate cry.


“No. No I-I don’t really have anywhere to go.” She sat down.




They sat, lost in their newfound conversation, while the geese flew into the new year, ahead of them.