I Refuse
“He was crying, but he didn’t know that. Deep down in his sleep he was going to die. He was in despair, he was trying to tell her he was going to die and explain to her why, and she got so upset it was almost a comfort, as if his dying made a greater impression on her than it did on him, but he didn’t know why he was going to die, and really, there was no comfort. He was alone. Only he was going to die. And he knew that one day soon she would get over it and to everyone’s surprise, would have pu...t it behind her, forgotten it already, or hidden it inside herself, the size of a shirt button.
When he woke up he was still going to die. It was over. It was all over. From the kitchen table he had swept any future he might have into a bucket that he carried out and emptied by the hedge. His life was at half-mast. He barely reached his own hips. He dragged himself along on his knees, the cross was heavy and sharp against his shoulder. I’m so thirsty, he thought and they give me only vinegar to drink.MoreLess
When he woke up he was still going to die. It was over. It was all over. From the kitchen table he had swept any future he might have into a bucket that he carried out and emptied by the hedge. His life was at half-mast. He barely reached his own hips. He dragged himself along on his knees, the cross was heavy and sharp against his shoulder. I’m so thirsty, he thought and they give me only vinegar to drink.MoreLess
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