Digital Ischemia

03/03/2012

Travel

Filed under: Stalker — Teepwriter @ 17:16

Bounce, bounce, jiggle. He bumps me against a flat, hard surface.

“Help me!” He sounds more angry than desperate. A car door clicks and creaks open. Defensive aggression stumbles out.

“What the fuck are you doing?” This voice is tremulous and young.

“Bringing you your fucking hit, arsehole.” That dissolves my peaceful reverie. Previous lack of conversation was actually lack of… My consciousness expires before my judgement matures.

Hum. Vibration. Swaying. New surface: undulating, cushioned. Bickering.

Nausea. I need stillness for just a little while. Another sway. My stomach empties. A cooling trickle on my cheek. The bickering stops.

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