By Rachel
I hate seeing you. This is why my fingers will never ever let me write your actual name. Caught in between naming and not naming, I invent a lexicon that reveals itself with invisible ink, yet I see it on the back of envelopes and scraps of paper tucked into books.
Ambiguity is chasing me with a number two pencil. Graph paper, with its orderly aqua blue boxes, taunts me to write.
Sometimes when I am driving or daydreaming or looking at mothers and fathers playing with their children in Riverside Park, I whisper to myself, “I’m glad you are dead.”
Loved it. Loved it, Rachel. Loved every word. Every word hitting its mark so certain, so sure. And yet … Just wonderful!
Thank you so much so reading my 101 flash, Jack.
Tight well-crafted read. Made me want to ‘hang around ‘with its author.
Great job getting your message across. At the end of every sentence I was holding my breath waiting for the hammer to drop. Only at the final word did I feel relieved and was able to breath normally. Thanks for teaching me something new in the “show don’t tell” method of writing.
Powerful weight, thick and full of taste and texture.
Absolutely haunting! Loved it!