Monday, July 26, 2004

Last night, I was talking to Mildred, and she told me some secrets about the raccoons, and the neighbours, about the whispering sound of a cheesewire, and the dull thud of a marble rolling pin, and I got to think about how I'm still here in Suburbia, and although the assignments are picking up, how I'm lonely for some real conversation.

I put Mildred back into her box then, gave it a decent burial, and then I drove a number of miles out to where the city stops and the dry countryside begins, and I found a phone, and I called Rachel.

Her voice, when she answered sounded tired, scratched by age, and death, and maybe tainted by the crackle of long distance converstation, and I dropped my coins into the slot, but I found I had nothing to say, that I could not make myself speak.

"I know people." she said, after a minute of silence, and then she hung up on me.

Later, I dug Mildred up again, and I held her in my hands, and even though she forgave me, she told me that I should only see Rachel one more time, and I knew what I must do.

1 Comments:

At August 9, 2004 at 6:59 AM, Blogger cLFlaVA said...

You are an incredibly intelligent writer. I don't doubt your story for a second. I've been a loyal reader since the first post, and although you don't know me, I'm glad to see someone is out there brave enough to fulfill my deepest darkest fantasies.

 

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