the king's queen plays a guessing game

[aslant]

robert, the one who kept singing springsteen at me yesterday, is actually not a bad guy. reminds me of uncle pete (the heat). all brawn and muscle and crackling male humor. quizzed me on his name as i cringed, laughing, guessing: bill? john? brian? to no avail. robert! he said laughing. told him about my horrible names/faces memory. we joked about my birthday, how i'd have to celebrate. i manufactured some semblance of social life with a few vague words. felt idiotic, again. he was nice about it, though. kept glancing at the flowers and saying nothing. ha, i thought, i know and you don't, and it is a beautiful story you will never know. i wonder what i would say if he asked? nothing, probably. effacing words.

just now he was leaving and a minute after, poked his head in the door for a brief second demanding with a gruff smile, what's my name? robert, i said triumphantly, saying goodbye as he leaped and bounded off down the hallway.

rumplestiltskin is your name, i should have said.