It’s my favorite, she said. It’s romantic. He didn’t know what to say. There are so many paths to the heart. Knotted. A maze he has lost himself in. There is no clear path to where she is, to where she speaks. He hears her as an echo, clear, direct, lost in a fog. He turns to the sound, hears her speak again behind him. He turns once more. She speaks once more behind him. He turns, he turns, turns. Knotted, in a maze, he turns, turns. |
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RD Savage
02/25/96 © 1996 published in The South Ash Press - 1996 |