fragment | iii

“… it was one of those moments when your heart gives  a wrench and you suddenly feel like you can’t breathe, and all you can manage to say is … ‘oh.'”


“and … what?”

“and what is the point?”

“what do you mean, ‘what is the point’?”

“what sort of reaction were you hoping i would supply?”

“oh. a little sympathy, perhaps … if not tea.”

“with what am i supposed to sympathize?”

“did you not listen to anything i said? heart-wrenching. not breathing. wordless groans.”

“oh is a word, at least as an interjection and a spelling of a letter of the alphabet.”

“you’re hopeless.”

“literal, maybe. hopeless? no. i’m just trying to comprehend what it is you want from me.”

“maybe we just don’t speak the same language.”

“that should have been obvious.”

“you won’t get anywhere by insulting me.”

“i am not trying to insult you, and this conversation has been going nowhere since we started.”

“i’m beginning to realize that. no matter — forget i mentioned it.”

“i can get you some tea, if you like.”

“thanks, but i don’t really need any.”

“… you’re not going to be a martyr, are you?”

“no, i have enough sense not to pull one of those. people who try that routine don’t deserve whatever sympathy they might get.”

“there we agree. so … coffee?”

“no, no thanks. i’m tired. i think i’ll head home. good bye.”

“wait, but … oh.”


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