Bored. Droopy-eyed. Drifting. Daydream about horseback riding. Daydream about what is not here and what is not now.
A lack of interest in their lack of interest.
Cold. Chill. Clammy hands.
How long? How far? How much. Tired of being dismissed. Angry, irritated, resigned. Sigh. Excluded, exiled, estranged. Social rejects rejecting one another. Forced integration. Introverts, we, all of us. We, none of us. Threatened, endangered, a species apart. The only species that thrives on the misery of solitude. The only species that pretends to need it...
Is red hair really the only thing that sets me apart? Would you even look my way if I had the plain blond tresses of my youth? Would the second glance be worth it? And the third? Was the third date worth it? Did my fiery hair disguise something else?
Click click click of keyboards. Sniff, shuffle, clearing a throat, silence. Don't look away from your computer screen, to see only the blank faces, mannequins at work. No laughter, only disguised, below-the-surface happiness or disguised, below-the-surface anger. Don't show it. Only quiet.
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2 comments:
If I sent you some crayons would it make work better?
Don't they always?
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