With my eyes closed, laying on two shirts spread out on the grass, I can feel the breeze blowing over my shirtless torso and tousling my hair. The warming sun colors my closed eyelids an orange-pink, the smell of cut grass abounds, the wind whistles. The sensations are so sensually pleasant, that it’s almost possible to ignore the chain-link fence, topped all around with countless outstretched, razorwire Slinky’s. For one hour a day the divide between here and there dissolves so that it’s difficult to discern the difference. These past few days I’ve felt better than I have in months, maybe years. A few difficult decisions, now decided, and the whole world has become a better place. And though I may eventually come to regret what these have wrought, their sum effect cannot possibly be as bad as things have been since that night of the epiphany, now almost three years past, that soon-to-be-famous moment of existential angst.
All the Fiction I Care to Remember