Ivan was never more psychic than in the morning, in the time between the first chirp of his alarm clock and the moment when he swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand. He screened mental films that he once thought of as memories but came to understand as prophecies. Today’s was a river bridge at dusk. He stood at one end. A woman he had not yet met stood at the other end. He was facing her. She was facing away from him. She turned slowly, showing brilliant eyes, uncorked a profanity, flung up the shameless finger. He began to run across the bridge, his heart upsurging. She was so beautiful that unthinking men like him would love her forever.
©2020 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
No comments:
Post a Comment