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02 April 2007 @ 01:44 am
I have this habit of talking to my boyfriends past and present when they're not around. The odd comment, like, "You always hated my hair anyway," on my way to the hairdresser's. Or, "But what about that checkout girl you slept with?" at the pivotal point in a movie when the woman takes the man back. And there was no checkout girl, in the movie or anywhere else, really.
I realize that this is what crazy people do, while doddering down the street with their grocery cart of shoes and empty Woolite bottles. But I'm not crazy. Maybe nobody's crazy, maybe they're just...startled, all those talkers-aloud, those women with tight cigarette clouds above their heads, the ones who slap their hands flat on the table and shout to nobody in particular, "But Nixon was a crook!" Maybe it's just a combination of feeling too much and too little at the same time. Maybe they're hoping that someone, anyone will say, "Yes, he was. That bastard."

-from "Too Big to Float" in Come Up and See Me Sometime short stories by Erika Krouse