"I can't because I have no hands"
He folds fingers inside, flaps sleeves uselessly in front of his face.
"See?"
No-one sees. It's almost Christmas. I'm making gift horses, little red horses, a whole -
"What's the collective noun for horses?"
"Hoof"
He says, fluttering his fake stumps at me. But I'm not making them now, anyway.
"Shut the fuck up"
Shan walks this certain distance apart, looking professional, or disdainful. I smile at him, because he hates that.
"Stable"
he mutters, turning away, then:
"Fucking hoof - unbelievable"
Barely audible. I can see he spoke from the mist rising mostly.
The house is next to us, we keep walking like we haven't noticed it. Don't look at the house. I'm touching the things in my pocket. Folded knife, cigarette papers, inhaler, half-made horses.
"I'll do it"
They stop and look at me, both of them. I can't read faces that well.
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"I smile at him, because he hates that." and "I can see he spoke from the mist rising mostly." both sound a bit affected compared to the rest.
ReplyDeleteLove the mood. Maybe cuz anything that smacks of winter gets me nostaligic these days, but the whole distance, Christmas spirit, loneliness, winter gloom just, hmmm...
Of course I don't get what he'll do, or what there is to read on the face, but the ending still feels very right. Very... hmm... present.
I don't know, they were two key images that belonged here and I feel clunky. Mist seems like a contrived word - I don't know the real term for it - you know, when it's cold and you can see breath?
ReplyDeleteexciting, new posts!
ReplyDeleteprinting now.
and the printer works!good sign
ReplyDeleteNienawidzę cię, suczka! Passionately. You better be dead, or in prison, or locked up in a mental ward or something. I know what I said, still... nienawidzę cię!!!
ReplyDeleteHave you stopped? Or is this summer recess?
ReplyDelete