Shattered

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SHATTERED

  Maybe it’s time I told you a story. Unlike the Thai massage it’s ending will not be a happy one. It’s a muted finale, heartbreaking in it’s absence of raised voices and angry freeze frames of faces cast ugly in their snapshot. It’s quiet and calm and all the sadder for it. There are escapades over the page, light and breezy and uplifting revelations, so maybe you’d like to skip this one. If it had been an option I certainly would have.

  The scene is setting like the sun parallel to our building, swallowed whole by Rockford’s skyline like a lazy whale devouring swarms of krill. The study is basking in the bloody glow of the solar death and I’m trying to finish up a piece whose deadline was yesterday.

  The phone rings twice before I pick it up. Two rings that perforate so much more than just the silence. Two rings that will change everything forever.

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~ by Joseph Blame on November 21, 2010.

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