She said her “yah’s” like they were forced out under the ephemeral smack of imaginary gum in her jaws. After every question I asked her, there was a pause, then the almost imperceptible click of her tongue leaving the roof of her mouth in a sudden stroke, and finally the breathy “ah” sound that escaped, curling its fingers around the Y so it wouldn’t get lost in her lips as they closed like elevator doors and her thoughts drifted upwards to an unknown cavity in her brain.
Number five.
Click. Smack. Whoosh.
Ding.
Number six.
Click. Smack. Whoosh.
Ding.
Sigh.
“Are we done yet?”
It sounded like she was talking with the remnants of blue jell-o on her gums. Her speech came out loose, watery and sweet, like the bees were trying to poison you by peeing in their own honey.
“Just one more.”
“M’kay.”
Her lips formed around the “kay” and slipped over the M as if it were the very top of a strawberry dum-dum’s sucker that somehow eluded the grasp of flavor-hungry flesh by positioning itself dead top center where nobody could get it on the first try due to the impossible sugary curvature.
Number seven.
Click. Smack. Whoosh.
Ding.
“I'm so done.”
Eight minutes of nonstop studying had been too much. She slid her chair back, grumbling rough curses that sounded like cheerios coming up her throat, and then she walked out the door, crunching whole grain cereal beneath her feet.
Ding.
Crash.
I relished at the thought of her burning at the bottom of an elevator shaft.