estate sale
the sound was the most pronounced thing: like the hum of five thousand locusts coming in for the fresh kill. the toothless wonders of the world gathered 'round and paid me paltry sums of money for memories. more than once i wanted to say. "yeah, no, you can't have that one..." but i bit my tongue and kept my mouth closed. i simply kept my eyes on the money and petting the tiny dog in my lap, only to keep myself distracted from the truth in front of me.
it hurts too bad to cry and not enough to really laugh.
limbo. in the most dante-ian sense of the word.
