Crossed Words

Posted: April 13, 2013 in Uncategorized

The round round round yellow light began to blink a slow electric heartbeat as she reached for her bagel, tasting the buttery herbs and washing them down with hot bitter blackness. The tiny sun pulsed faster and faster until it became a stuttering flicker and then a solid light. She pulled the microphone close and put on her headset, clearing her throat before pushing the slider up and saying everything she knew. Stories about home, things from the newspaper, the best way to get to work, her eyes closed as she read a rhythmless poem. Only it did have a tempo, just one that was designed to be missed. For eleven minutes she spoke, then a red light appeared on her instrument panel and she obeyed it, pressing the button next to it and pushing the recording equipment away, leaning her head back and sneaking another bite of her breakfast, as if nothing had happened. As if it wasn’t at all strange to speak so freely to total strangers in a one-way conversation. It’s not that she tried not to think about it, it’s that after eighteen years of sounding twenty-four, she simply didn’t think about it.


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