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SHARDS
HOW WRECKED CAN A HEART GET?
We'd come back from a walk along the Canal. Jesse claimed his guitar and told me to sit and listen.
"I wrote something for you," he said.
I didn't understand everything he said in the song, he didn't go for simple, but this was a serenade. Unlike the intense, first night in the coffeehouse, there was no accompanying audience. To be the only one he sang to was engulfing.
When he finished, I got up and pulled him up, guitar attached, from his bed. I took the instrument away from him and said, "Sweetie, you're not going to be getting much sleep tonight."
HOW WRECKED CAN THE WORLD GET?
I didn't want to wait for the coffins, but I knew I had to. And they came, flag-smothered, to the sound of a trumpet. Republic soldiers took them one by one from separate funereal vehicles to the space before the Unknown Soldier.
Someone gave the Premier a microphone. She stuck it to her lower left cheek, a silver slash of a device, and walked in front of the middle coffin. The caskets, I didn't know who was in which one.
HOW WRECKED CAN A HEAD GET?
When I awoke, the doctor told me I had pieces of tombstone in my head. He said his name was Page and that we were in a government medical building. And I took his word for it; I was blind.
"You were shot pursuing a deviant," he said.
SHARDS
Summer reading goes to pieces.
We'd come back from a walk along the Canal. Jesse claimed his guitar and told me to sit and listen.
"I wrote something for you," he said.
I didn't understand everything he said in the song, he didn't go for simple, but this was a serenade. Unlike the intense, first night in the coffeehouse, there was no accompanying audience. To be the only one he sang to was engulfing.
When he finished, I got up and pulled him up, guitar attached, from his bed. I took the instrument away from him and said, "Sweetie, you're not going to be getting much sleep tonight."
HOW WRECKED CAN THE WORLD GET?
I didn't want to wait for the coffins, but I knew I had to. And they came, flag-smothered, to the sound of a trumpet. Republic soldiers took them one by one from separate funereal vehicles to the space before the Unknown Soldier.
Someone gave the Premier a microphone. She stuck it to her lower left cheek, a silver slash of a device, and walked in front of the middle coffin. The caskets, I didn't know who was in which one.
HOW WRECKED CAN A HEAD GET?
When I awoke, the doctor told me I had pieces of tombstone in my head. He said his name was Page and that we were in a government medical building. And I took his word for it; I was blind.
"You were shot pursuing a deviant," he said.
SHARDS
Summer reading goes to pieces.
170 pages, Kindle Edition
First published July 14, 2014
6 people want to read
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