I’m staring at the ceiling again. Three light bulbs. Two lit, one shadow. I don’t know why I’m staring at the shadow — dumb moments like this. I’m waiting for a shadow to move when all I have is to move what lits.
“What’s in your head?”
“Shadows.”
Questions can cut dreamy states. It’s frustrating most of the time. Those are my peaceful moments and he dares kill them every time.
“Ah, out of your head — again. What’s it this time?”
“Shut up.”
“Stop breaking yourself. It’s stupid, really. How many times should I tell you that?”
“You don’t know anything”
“Yes! Because you don’t tell me anything. You go around, act foolish, say blah blah blah, and stare at anything but me. What? Am I supposed to just let you be? I mean once is good but you’re ‘it’ all the time. I can’t bear the sight.”
I want him to shut up. Tape his mouth with some strong adhesive and tie him somewhere so I could be in peace or something like that but it’s not legal. And even though I hate the guts of cutting cutting cutting, there’s a kind of peace that comes with it.
“You don’t know how to stop, do you?”
“You can’t tell people not to care.”
And I hate how most of the time, He’s right.
“I just..”
“Okay, here goes your mad way. What about the shadows?”
“Nah, I’m just waiting. I don’t know. For it to move.”
He looked at me with that hateful curiosity. He stood up and took those two lit portable bulbs. He handed one to me.
“Okay. Listen well. See that red switch? Press down to the right (-) then the lights go off. Shadows will go out with it. Press it to the left (o), lights turn on. Shadows will appear with it. Move the bulb with your hand or place it somewhere and watch the shadows move as you do. Place it close or far however you like. You can do whatever the hell you want with it. Play with the lights while it is on, make the shadows still, or dance with how you move the bulb. Whatever, I don’t care. Sleep with the lights or sleep without — your choice. I don’t want to say this but… Just don’t forget I’m holding a bulb too. And, I don’t know how that head of yours works but… Look at me. I have shadows too.”
I don’t know if it’s hate. Frustration? I don’t think so. He’s something else.
I couldn’t quite get it.
Comments (2)
Well-wrought! We are, it seems, the shadowed objects around which light bends.
I love your story! Great work!