He went to the fridge, the one with the beer. He picked one. It seemed like the right choice. It was a cold one. He was a better reader when he had been drinking. He felt all the old feeling. He said to himself, "Z, this one's for you." It all became so clear.
I went to the blog. I read the post. One picture was fuzzy. The other was clear. I grasped the meaning. Immediately. In a way unfamiliar in Hemingway. I strung up a rod. I caught that fish under the bridge and did not wander farther.
ReplyDeleteSo deep. So very deep. Like an ocean. Like Long Island Sound. I close my eyes and breathe. Finally, I cough.
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