Archive for the ‘Post: 11.2’ Category

Monday, April 2, 9:52 a.m.

Jack says, “I know.”

I say, “You know what?”

He looks at me with the uncompromising gaze of one whose eyes have been opened. He looks like the embodiment of revelation. My heart sinks.

“You made no sense to me,” he says. “Then I suddenly realized why you were so frustrating: You’ve been doing your best to live like a person in a book.”

“We’re paraphrasing Kurt Vonnegut now?” I say.

Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut

“I know, Katherine.” he says. “I know.”

I look closely at him; at his eyes, which have never been clearer or more wounded.

He does know.

“Damn,” I mutter. “I should have gotten rid of him when I had the chance.”

 

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