daylight. Plastic square packing crate red letters leaned mock decrepit above the facade: Little Hispaniola. Mary averted. She did not relish the thought of visiting the original of this shabby barfront, glittering and gambling Hispaniola, exporter of pain and terror, once loyal servant of the willing but fastidious nations of west and east. She would not need pd transit. In two hours, Oversight; tomorrow she would move to the combs. But first for an hour or two she would visit E Hassida.
I sometimes know no friends better than they know themselves. Call it megalomania or call it a curse; its true. I only wish I knew mys4f so well.
15 Richard listened to Nadine preparing brunch. He had heard her in the bathroom urinating into the old ceramic bowl high pressure low altitude and had wrinkled his nose. Entering a second fastidiousness fully the equal of his adolescence, Richard did not appreciate displays of human frailty of human limitation to biology especially not when they concerned himself. He had enjoyed the sex with Nadine the night before; she kept herself fastidiously dean, but he disliked his own bathroom sounds now, much less the sounds others made. When married this had never bothered him. + Therapy myself. Wife made such noises; wife is dead. Those who make such noises can die. Is that it? + No. He rolled off the frame bed, listened to the electrical suspension humming with relief, saw through the yellowed lace curtains of the dusty silled bedroom window comb reflected sunlight on a distant yellow stone building, smelled cheerfully the odors of coffee reheated shepherds pie. All might be dear today normal perhaps even pleasant. Then an acute dark intrusion. Nothing had changed. He had not solved his problems or anybody elses. Today once again he would not write and his sham would continue his affectation of being a writer when in fact he was a parasite a sycophant an acolyte of those with higher energy levels greater charge greater ability to plunge their thumbs into the world and emerge with success. His life was a simple repetition of what ifs and what might have beens. Youre awake, Nadine said poking her head around the doorjamb black hair cheerfully awry. Unfortunately, he said. Still down? Down down, he said softly. Then Im a failure, she said lightly taking his funk lightly and why not. Not such a harlot as to brighten your nights into day, am I? Not that, he said. Im still.. She waited and when no adjective came pushed her lips into a moue backed out of the door frame and said Leftovers await. He could at least be grateful her mood was no match for his. Two of them down would be more than he could take. In truth he was glad someone was here and glad that that someone was female and he had enjoyed the sex the night before and he was hungry. He shook his head and put on a robe wondering how many seconds again before the teeter would totter. With his hand halfway down the robes left sleeve he stopped, hearing the door chime. The home manager announced nothing; a not unexpected failure. Shall I? Nadine inquired archly, expression implying a fallen woman should not be exposed to morning visitors. No. Me. He answered the door after putting on slippers. Beyond the antique eternal plastic screen was a young man he had never seen before: red haired, pleasantly round faced and intent with a quick smile and the air of a salesman. Salesmen did not come to this section of the shadows. Youre Richard Fettle? Yes. He pulled on the other sleeve. My name is not important. I have some questions to ask. For societys sake I hope you will answer. That formula For Societys Sake had become a nervous joke in the shadows and even in the combs but this was not a joke. Of course they would become interested. There was news here and he was a part of it. Celebrity publicity sensation. Excuse me? Richard fumbled, hoping he might be allowed to close the door. May I come in. For societys sake. In the kitchen Nadine stood like a cat with
I sometimes know no friends better than they know themselves. Call it megalomania or call it a curse; its true. I only wish I knew mys4f so well.
15 Richard listened to Nadine preparing brunch. He had heard her in the bathroom urinating into the old ceramic bowl high pressure low altitude and had wrinkled his nose. Entering a second fastidiousness fully the equal of his adolescence, Richard did not appreciate displays of human frailty of human limitation to biology especially not when they concerned himself. He had enjoyed the sex with Nadine the night before; she kept herself fastidiously dean, but he disliked his own bathroom sounds now, much less the sounds others made. When married this had never bothered him. + Therapy myself. Wife made such noises; wife is dead. Those who make such noises can die. Is that it? + No. He rolled off the frame bed, listened to the electrical suspension humming with relief, saw through the yellowed lace curtains of the dusty silled bedroom window comb reflected sunlight on a distant yellow stone building, smelled cheerfully the odors of coffee reheated shepherds pie. All might be dear today normal perhaps even pleasant. Then an acute dark intrusion. Nothing had changed. He had not solved his problems or anybody elses. Today once again he would not write and his sham would continue his affectation of being a writer when in fact he was a parasite a sycophant an acolyte of those with higher energy levels greater charge greater ability to plunge their thumbs into the world and emerge with success. His life was a simple repetition of what ifs and what might have beens. Youre awake, Nadine said poking her head around the doorjamb black hair cheerfully awry. Unfortunately, he said. Still down? Down down, he said softly. Then Im a failure, she said lightly taking his funk lightly and why not. Not such a harlot as to brighten your nights into day, am I? Not that, he said. Im still.. She waited and when no adjective came pushed her lips into a moue backed out of the door frame and said Leftovers await. He could at least be grateful her mood was no match for his. Two of them down would be more than he could take. In truth he was glad someone was here and glad that that someone was female and he had enjoyed the sex the night before and he was hungry. He shook his head and put on a robe wondering how many seconds again before the teeter would totter. With his hand halfway down the robes left sleeve he stopped, hearing the door chime. The home manager announced nothing; a not unexpected failure. Shall I? Nadine inquired archly, expression implying a fallen woman should not be exposed to morning visitors. No. Me. He answered the door after putting on slippers. Beyond the antique eternal plastic screen was a young man he had never seen before: red haired, pleasantly round faced and intent with a quick smile and the air of a salesman. Salesmen did not come to this section of the shadows. Youre Richard Fettle? Yes. He pulled on the other sleeve. My name is not important. I have some questions to ask. For societys sake I hope you will answer. That formula For Societys Sake had become a nervous joke in the shadows and even in the combs but this was not a joke. Of course they would become interested. There was news here and he was a part of it. Celebrity publicity sensation. Excuse me? Richard fumbled, hoping he might be allowed to close the door. May I come in. For societys sake. In the kitchen Nadine stood like a cat with
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