“Why is this story so short?” she said. “There must be more, right?” She was sitting on the lip of the past. That was what she called the tub. She was sitting on the lip of the past, and the water that had been in it, she water that she had been in, was already swirling toward the drain. The air hung humid around her, clung to her skin. “And skin,” she said. “Is all there is.” She was talking to herself, at first, until she realized that she was not the only one in the room. “There’s no more,” said the figure behind the mirror. She couldn’t see the figure, could only see the surface of the mirror. It was a man? A woman? Herself, reflected? The figure behind the mirror explained that there was no more. “Each story,” the figure said, “is brought to a close sooner rather than later, not so that it can vanish but so that it can remain alive in you. You must extend the story forward. You must complete the picture. You must decide how to handle what is unresolved.” She didn’t like what the figure was saying. Why did she need another assignment? She was busy. She had already begun to think about the rest of her day, a drive to the store, a drive to the field, hopefully a rare minute or two snatched back that she could spend in deep contemplation of the place her mind occupied inside her body and her body inside the world. To satisfy the figure’s wish, to complete the story, was out of the question. “But it’s not a question,” the figure said. “It’s an order.” How had the figure heard her thoughts? “I can hear them as easily as I can see your skin,” the figure said. She should have been scared. She should have felt the figure’s words as a fist around her heart. Instead she plashed her palm against the small amount of water that remained in the past, dressed quickly, and left the room. The figure could finish the story on its own. It could write a book for all she cared. The air outside the room was less close and thick. It was air she could move through easily rather than air that clutched at her and held her. She locked the door behind her for additional comfort.
©2020 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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