Narrative dialog
Four friends were attending a local poetry reading at a bookstore that also served as a art gallery and coffee shop. The heavy afternoon light filtered through its dusty windows. Nadia shifted in her seat, her gaze lingering on the previous reader as she weighed a thought aloud. “We’re still primitive simians in many ways.”
Will gave a slow, contemplative nod, his eyes narrowing slightly as he followed her line of thought. “True. Our minds often run on semi-automatic. It’s comfortable to live without thinking too much.”
Leaning forward, Kasim rested his elbows on the table and lowered his voice in quiet agreement. “Deep thinking takes energy. It’s easier to coast through life without thinking deeply."
Wan-Sze had drifted into his own thoughts, but he returned with a quiet certainty. “Yes. In a sense, we’re only half-asleep.”
For a moment, none of them spoke. Outside, a bus passed with a low rumble, and the room seemed to settle into the hush between poems.
Then Nadia smiled faintly. “Maybe poetry is one way of waking up.”
Will looked toward the empty podium, where the next reader was gathering their papers. “Or at least remembering that we were asleep.”