The Grip (short story)

"It's new", she said, as if that explained everything.

"But it's exactly the same!", he replied, bewildered.

Bewildered was a good explanation of how he felt almost all of the time, of late, in this strange new world he had found himself in one morning. He'd gone to sleep in his apartment in London, and woke with a thump, several bruises and a headache falling to her kitchen floor. She'd been about to drink some coffee with a friend, and the minor burns from their spilled cups hadn't helped. Still, she'd adapted remarkably well, and now, a few weeks later, he was about to go to work for the first time.

"It's the same as the other portfolio", he continued.

"Oh rubbish - it's nothing like the other!"

"But ... how can it be different? They're the same size, the same ... function. Same .. everything."

She looked at him pityingly. He was like a child. Well, she better explain it to him, then.

"I see. Well, it's the corners. Look, the portfolio has rounded corners - so last season, but the grip has square corners. It's totally different, totally new, and ex-ci-ting!" she almost sang.

"You had to come up with a different name for that ... that small of a difference?"

She bristled. "Well, of course, says the man who says there's more than one type of fork."

He shook his head. "Well, where I come from, there are."

She stopped him. "Don't. I've heard it all before."

She glanced at the floor, and, curious, asked "What's this creation you've been working on all night? And what's it for?"

He grinned, and replied "I'll show you."

With that, he put one arm through a strap, hefted it to his back, and fiddle until his other arm went through the strap, watching her eyes get bigger as he did so.

"It's called a backpack."

"Huh - terrible name. But ... why do you want to wear that?"

He sighed. "I'll put my lunch, and notes and anything else I want for work in it. The weight goes across the shoulders, and it's easy to carry, leaves your hands free, and can't be snatched easily by thieves."

Her eyes opened wider as the concept got through. "Ohhh ..."

She frowned. "It's different - really different, I'll grant you that, but ... do many people in your world have them?"

"Yes, they're quite popular in some areas. The load is even across both shoulders, unlike"-he put up a hand to forestall her-"the multiple, individually named variations of satchels that you have."

She sniffed. "Hm. Ah well, I doubt something like that would catch on here. It's too ... different."

"But", he replied, bewildered again "it's so functional."

She smiled, "Well, so you claim, but we've got a long history of developing things like that, and I think if we had needed it, or it would be that much use to us, our people would have come up with the idea by now."

He thought they'd been so focused on small variations that they'd missed the bigger picture, but kept his peace as they went their different ways to work.

Copyright © Kayleen White, 2013 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)