I can't say it like I write it...I can't write it like I think it...I can't think it like I feel it...and I don't feel a thing.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
tonight, just now, i looked out from the front desk towards the big screen tv in the lobby. i saw erica sitting on the couch, waiting for me to finish working. i blinked (or came to my senses) and she was gone.
He heard the words drag out. He felt them pull out of his mouth like freight cars, jangling, backing up on each other, grating to a halt, sliding, clinching back, jarring, and then suddenly stopping as roughly as they had begun. It was over. --Flannery O'Connor, "The Barber"
No comments:
Post a Comment