Monday, April 25, 2011


There at the table the smell of paper and ink was almost palpable. Things were being turned in and turned over; indeed something of mine was there too. I didn't know what was in the report, I think I must have authored it, but it seemed empty and no memories of it would surface; most of it had been blacked out, and I took credit for that as well. I had only glanced at what she was turning in and noticed that my name was attached to it. I got the strong sense that I had done something with her under the guise of science and that, like all science, sex was the real motive. I still don't remember.

Her sister was with her there and seemed to know more than her coy smile would let on. All of the sudden, a man I am very familiar with was with us all, and I became angry. I know him, I may not know where I am or what I've done, but I know all about him. He shouldn't be here. I realize then that I have not bothered to look at her and my thoughts about the man disappeared as quickly as they came. Now, instead of a glance, I gaze full stare into the face of the girl who seemed to be central to everything but just as much a mystery to me. She had brown hair with a light hue of red in the overhead lamps. Her soft complexion seemed foreign and sweet and revealed nothing like my own scars. As I tried to take this all in she smiled just a bit, embarrassed, and looked me in the eyes.

"Who are you?"

My mouth was dryer than anything and my head was still swimming as I lay in my bed. The dead bugs on the wall painted a mosaic of dark colors that didn't seem to spell anything out, but occupied my full attention. It had been the fevered dream of a drunken stupor and nothing else, but who was she? Where had I seen her, how did she get so lodged in my subconscious? Already, details were fading from my mind; her eyes may well have been haunting, but the ghosts had been exorcised from me. The color was leaving her ever paler skin. Her proportions seemed wrong and all the minute adjustments I could make to them alike. She had left me and I would soon be without even the memories, as they were being sloppily rooted out of my mind like weeds pulled by an unenthusiastic kid with a summer job, envious of the fun his friends were having during a time in his life he would never get back and expressing it with overt passive aggressive tendencies. Overall, it would be the best relationship I'd ever have with a woman.

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