Day Sixteen – Numbness in the Toes
Metal men and bloodsucking aliens would be preferable. There are hints of lavender in the sky among the oranges and pinks. Thomas likes lavender.
Thomas’s sweater is coming unraveled.
On this day, Thomas rises from his bed and begins to unravel himself from life, from responsibility, and from the oppressive gaze of the okapi skeleton he purchased on safari in Chad. The first few inches of his sweater pull away easily, and it is only after a moment or two of the cautious approach that, with reckless abandon, Thomas accelerates the disassembling of the final mystery of his life.
The sweater has purples and blues, but no orange. Or maybe there are oranges – Thomas cannot remember. Call it farcical expression of Wernicke-Korsakoff meant to excuse the obliviousness of his existence. There are no blues, though, regardless of what I may have indicated in the past few sentences.
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