A girl in a city in a country in the world.
A life begun with a bolt of lightning.
A sight you have never seen before.
The Disappearance Of
I KILLED A MAN TODAY.
I killed many a man today.
The smooth edge of the sink is hard and cold. A tighter grip on it and my fingers could easily blend in with the fancy porcelain, blue streaks included. I don’t think it’s very clean. It is filled with rings, little circles and dots of faded water drops and spit, gray and old, dry, cracked. Wish the rest of the toilets could match them. But they don’t, they are not dank or filthy, because this is a respectable establishment, the facilities are regularly cleaned and appropriately shiny, lemon and bleach, squeaky, gleaming. As is the mirror.
Hell on the senses, hell in the eyes.
Close them. My work officially has a body count. I wonder what my parents would say. Good job, honey, way to go! Always knew something would become of you! Soon you’ll be at the top of the ladder! Yeah, I’m going to become the smallest and flashiest triangle, the one at the very top of the pyramid presenting the food-chain. Predator and killer. Might as well prepare to have my name printed out in books like that. They’re also going to put it on a shiny plastic rectangle painted gold and a nine-to-five ex-beggar with a limp and a lisp, leering at everyone, is going to be drilling it into the polished mahogany door, drilling it into my skull, drilling it into the night, drilling, drilling, drilling away.
So, it’s a good thing I didn’t get that glass door I wanted.
It’s trendy, what can I say. These days and these decades one gets a plaque, a golden coin, and a party invitation for killing a man. Go, me! Finally some recognition, that’s what I’m talking about. Now, remember, and make sure you don’t forget, don’t mix up the clothes for the day! Indeed, they’re gifting, giving, bestowing decorations and commendations upon me, it’s an important day and I must look proper. Have to make sure I wear that one coat I bought for special occasions and then left to rot because special occasions never happened, there’s nothing special in breathing and opening eyes and saying words when people want background noise to their own soliloquies. It’s in the very back of the closet with other clothes of the same caliber, same thread, it’s like they are one and the same, an untouched and priceless entity, coveted and then renounced once obtained.
Oh, and comb your hair thoroughly.
Yeah. That’s what mom would say, has said about a thousand and fifty-eight times. Read more...