Archive for the ‘Post: 10.8’ Category

Saturday, March 31, 10:55 p.m.

As a child, a neighbor once told me about the land of Brigadoon. She was a one-time professional ballerina turned full-time anorexic. She had a flair for the tragic. She told me that Brigadoon is a magical place that you can only stumble upon by chance. In Brigadoon, life is wondrous. But if you leave, you will never, ever find it again. I thought then, and I still think, that this is the saddest thing imaginable.

I call Jack nine more times before I give up and go to bed.