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Realization

She said that she would tie my lips together with a noose if she had to because my breathing was like white wine spilled down her blouse. It hung there ugly and tainted, left over from the day. She said that she used to watch it grow wider and wider until it swallowed her whole. She told me that she never liked it when I talked. I asked her too many questions that she couldn’t answer. It left her feeling inadequate and dumb. Like a dog scratching its ear as it watched a fly buzz toward its nose. Then she wrinkled her eyes and her mouth turned into the thin wire of a washing line. “Sometimes I think you ask me questions just so I feel stupid” I told her that she was being ridiculous. She shrugged and muttered something about curiosity killing a cat and left me standing there feeling ripped open. I wondered why. Then I realized that it was because she had torn the shawl that hung around the cobwebs in the back of my mind with the broken mirror laying under it. Of course, I wanted her to feel bad. It was the inconsequential characteristic of humanity. The ability of building yourself up by pushing other’s down. The truth fermented on my tongue for a while. The taste buds trying to discover if this was a satisfying or ugly realization that would keep them dry and parched. They decided on the former. There was no need to puzzle over this and revisist insomnia because I had finally discovered an inevitable truth. I picked up my backpack and walked out of the room. I decided to ask Mrs. Randall about the psychological temperament of humans tomorrow. Hey, it was the cycle of life.



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