|
"
apathy is harder than it looks
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
| |
30.11.02
A long refreshing silence flowed through the air, breaking apart all the tension the honks, beeps, and screeches of the day had gathered in me until she walked in. Her fake, cheap, plastic shoe soles slapped the floor and sent flagrant echos flying about the room. Her talking was completely unnessary. I already know what she had to say by looking at her. Her terse lips were pursed as if they were the top of a drawstring bag that had been yanked something horrible. They seemed ready to kiss someone, or suck out his soul. Everything in how she moved was tense. Her moves were restricked by the tight black bag she wore. She came up and started to move those lips. I couldn't pull together what she was saying for I was focused on the edges of her lips flaunt themselves and become sucked back in. Suddenly, I knew why she was really there: she had come pack only to test me, to see if I was suffering, and if she could make me suffer more.
02:09
|
|
| |
|
|
|