July 29, 2014

“A sonic boom shakes the motel. The foundation sways deep in the sand. I run to the window. A plastic doll body is roasting in the oven. It doesn’t matter what I touch. Solidity shatters beneath my fingers. I am missing three-quarters of my fingertips. I miss them. I miss rubbing them over lightly moistened glass rims until a soft chime sound came back, a high-pitched HUMMMMMMMMM sound that traveled into my ears and went ricocheting down the canals. I crawl out from beneath the bed. In the event of a nuclear attack, hiding will save me from nothing. I will only be cremated against the box springs. I’ll be trapped beneath the mattress until some unsavory survivors locate my corpse by means of the resulting stench. What they do after will be inconclusive. They might bite the bits of intact flesh. They might drag me into the sand and leave me for predatory animals to eat.”

 

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