Friday, 6 April 2012

He Could Not Recall the Correct Move Order

Then he saw a girl. He recognised her.

It seemed a small audience had gathered. People watching with interest. What were they watching? What were they thinking? He wanted to get up. He wanted to get up and dance, dance with them. Real close. The dancing. Dance real close. With movements approximating the wind. Weird snaking movements. It made perfect sense to him. He could hallucinate suitable music at will. An admirable feat, probably. He no longer cared. He had grown quite weary all of a sudden. And yet he felt he must continue to affect this strained grin, as painful and humiliating as it was. Complete exhaustion and ennui. An overwhelming greyness. He stood up. He donned his coat. Snap out of it, he suggested to himself. A dawning warmth. A blooming sensation. The old familiar tingling and numbness preceeded a surge of something or other.

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