Every time I start to think, my mind objects. And when I don’t, my mind yet objects. So I prefer to think. But what? That is exactly what I am thinking. To think on what.
I look beyond her, somewhere, past the concrete walls. I can see it. She is sitting across me on the floor, leaning against that very wall. Her legs crossed and her hands on her lap, placed so lightly yet with brute force. A faint smile spread across her lips. Her eyes boring into me. Seeing not past but in me. I can feel the heat of her pedantic glance. I chose to ignore. Continue reading