Something Beginning with D
by Andrew Tomkinson
This is not everything. Some bits are missing, unassembled. His face is not all there; only the chin and the fingers resting on the wheel. The rest is darkness. The wing mirrors are dark too, and empty, and there is nothing to be made out beyond the windows but a blank static fizz. They don’t seem to notice this in the back– the blurred edges, the sleepy incompleteness of it. Perhaps it is normal for them. What is childhood, after all, but the gap between two slumbers? He sighs, lifts the outline of a sleeve up to the dreamcatcher and runs the tendril between his fingers, the blue beads sliding like rosaries.
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Copyright © 2017 by Andrew Tomkinson