Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Last paragraph written

I could see my reflection in the shiny window pane which kept out the black night sky. I narrowed my eyes so that my face looked blurry, vague, and I tried to make out his face amongst the fleshy contours. I could see the tension and the trauma skulking behind tightened skin and tear ducts which were on the brink. He needed to let go for the sake of everything. Especially his trial, where he needed the sympathy of others. I couldn’t bear to think of him locked in a random room somewhere. It could have been me. I could have at least been a suspect with my connection to the corpse and the psychic community. But they knew it was him from the beginning; it is nearly always those closest to us. They mar us the deepest, one way or another. I placed my fingertips on his reflection and circled around his eyes and forehead. I didn’t care who saw. Adela softened my fingers so they felt like taffeta. I tried to comfort his image but in doing so his image comforted me in some way.

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