For years more, I maintained both public and private relations with them But privately, I ceased to associate with them. Only twice did I have the feeling to hope for assurance. I had been playing with matches and burned a small rug. I was in the process of covering up my crime when they saw me.
I felt their gazes inside my head and on my hands. I whirled about in the bathroom, horribly visible, a live target. Indignation saved me.
I flew into a rage against so crude an indiscretion, I muttered like my father: “You damn it, You damn it, You damn it.” They never looked at me again. ( 2006 )
No comments:
Post a Comment