{"id":1455,"date":"2022-07-06T14:59:07","date_gmt":"2022-07-06T14:59:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/?p=1455"},"modified":"2024-08-23T18:43:21","modified_gmt":"2024-08-23T18:43:21","slug":"second-sight","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/second-sight\/","title":{"rendered":"Second Sight"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Other formats: PDF<\/a> | \u00edslenska<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n

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\"Second<\/a>
Illustration by B\u00f6rkur Sigurbj\u00f6rnsson<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n

I looked at my watch. It was still two hours until I had an appointment with the representative of the publisher that was potentially interested in publishing my novel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There were two weeks since I had had a short chat with her after the poetry reading of the writing group Small Matters. I had been quite proud when she came up to me after my reading and asked about my writing\u2014if I wrote something besides poetry. I told her about the manuscript in my drawer and we decided to meet over a cup of coffee in a downtown caf\u00e9.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My mind wandered back to the poetry reading and I tried to remember what she had looked like\u2014the representative of the publisher. I couldn’t visualize her face. I had been quite elevated when we met. Both because of my debut poetry reading and because of the attention she had given me. The details were covered in fog.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What if I would not recognize her again? What if I entered the caf\u00e9, walked past her without recognizing her and sat down at a different table?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She would surely be offended. Wouldn’t she just strike my name off the list of promising writers? My writing career would be over\u2014before it took off. My career would crash at take-off\u2014run out of gas before reaching the end of the runway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2605 \u2605 \u2605 \u2605 \u2605<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I sat down with my cup of coffee and looked at my watch. It was still thirty minutes until our appointment. I was early. It was the best thing for me to do. This way I would not need to worry about not recognizing her. Now it was her responsibility to recognize me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked again around me at the caf\u00e9. To be sure. I looked from one table to the next and focused on excluding the possibility that any of the guests could be the representative of the publisher. A man. Too old. A group of boys. Too young. Could this be her? No, she wouldn’t have brought her child with her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was safe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2605 \u2605 \u2605 \u2605 \u2605<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I watched the woman with the child as she left the caf\u00e9. The clock showed five minutes past. Had it been her? Could it be that she had had a problem with finding a babysitter and taken her child with her? It had been intended as an informal meeting anyway. Had my fear become reality? Had she left the caf\u00e9 in anger because I had failed to recognize her? Had my inability to remember people\u2019s faces let me down once again?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2605 \u2605 \u2605 \u2605 \u2605<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As the woman with the child left the caf\u00e9, another woman entered\u2014the representative of the publisher. I recognized her at once. How could I have doubted?<\/p>\n\n\n\n