The Distant Garden
The pill is blue. You count them. One, two, three. The plastic bottle rattle sounds like a tiny, hollow bone. You are in the break room. The linoleum is peeling at the corners. It looks like old skin. You hold the bottle in your hand. It is heavy. It is light. You need to eat. You are not hungry. You are empty. The machine hums. It is a low, constant tone. It vibrates in your teeth. You work at...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima