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Sunday Brunch by Joshua Dinman
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Sunday Brunch by Joshua Dinman

A group of friends since college, has gathered for a brunch, held regularly each Sunday. It is an afternoon of conversation, drinking and a fair share of drama.

This story explores the relationships between members of the group, heartaches, friendship, life and death. The Sunday Brunch delves into the hardships of love in the contemporary age.


Nathan Looked Like Hell By coincidence, the Cohen's apartment fell silent just as Nathan walked in. Jenny caught his entrance out of the corner of her eye and tried not to let Amy know he was there. She didn't want to spook her. Amy was anxious to see him again, she could tell. There was a sort of expectant energy in the way she stood, as though she was gravitated toward the foyer, leaning toward it like a paper clip spun around in the presence of a magnet. Nathan looked like hell. He'd lost more weight. He was gaunt. His complexion was pale. He hadn't shaved. He seemed to disappear in his sport coat. When the conversation abruptly stopped, he took a small step back, like a stranger on the street accused of a crime by an angry mob. His look was one of guilt and remorse, as if he'd been somehow responsible for Michael's death. David and Suze greeted him. He hugged them peculiarly. He never had been the hugging type. He usually avoided casual contact, resisted Suze's social air kisses, but now it was as though he had to lean into them to keep from falling. She tried not to stare. Amy looked at her quizzically. Damn, she thought, she'd given herself away. Amy considered her again then spun around. Jenny thought she heard a gasp, as Amy set eyes on him. He kept his head bowed, listening as David spoke to him. He seemed preoccupied. He may have not even been listening to what David told him. Either that or he was concentrating on hearing exactly what David was saying.

He'd been that way recently with her too. They'd had dinner together a few days after the shooting. He'd stared hard at her when she spoke, listening intently like a foreigner who wasn’t familiar with the language. Amy watched him with a mixed expression of sadness and hope. Jenny wondered what she was thinking. When you've been away from someone who you look forward to seeing after a long absence, you imagine scenarios, hopeful chains of events that in the back of your mind that you half-know won’t come to fruition. How had Amy envisioned their reunion? Did she hold onto the hope that they would fall in love again, or did she envision a final parting, a closing of that chapter of their lives? Jenny suddenly remembered she would never have that opportunity with Michael. There would be no chance meetings on the street years from now. In the past week she’d thought she’d seen him around town. As if she were dreaming, she'd close her eyes, then open them again only to find no one even remotely resembling him in the crowd. On those occasions she'd feel so weak she'd have to sit down somewhere in a coffee shop or on a park bench until the aching feeling in her stomach passed. Watching Amy, she wondered what she had expected, coming back to Pittsburgh for the memorial service. She hadn't come for Tim's funeral. Tracy had been pissed about that. Then again, Amy and Tim weren't exactly fond of one another. Granted, this meant a little bit more to Amy. After all, she and Michael had been lovers.