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Missed connection

August 5th, 2018 Leave a comment Go to comments

You were the girl wearing a clown nose, running from the police. Clad in purple from head to toe, you rushed through the Burger King waving your arms above your head and shouting about the Mesopotamian gods. Your wicker clogs clacked loudly on the scummy tiles, their elevated heels stretching your calve muscles taut. There was a suspicious odor about you, vaguely resembling the stench of death, though in fairness, that could well have been the Burger King and not you.

The hem of your polyester dress caught on an errant bolt protruding from the bench in the booth you were climbing onto, ripping it free from your body and exposing your pink and lime green underwear beneath. You bellowed with deep guttural sounds, primal even, as you pounded your chest with two fists and stole someone’s Diet Coke. The air was alive with your electric energy, pulsing through all of the eye witnesses, particularly myself. I couldn’t look away from you.

Suddenly you tore open your handbag, producing an enormous package of individual cheese slices, and threatened to “dairy the shit” out of anyone who dared approach you. Only the police seemed uncowed. It was then that you attempted to jump through the window, though the plexiglass was more resilient than you had apparently assumed. You fell backward in a heap, but quickly scrambled back to your feet. Your enormous clogs, however, couldn’t match your pace and you were still wobbling for balance when the officers made their move.

I sat alone, reading the Communist Manifesto quietly aloud to myself. We made eye contact for a split second before the sergeant tackled and pinned you to the floor. You were dragged from the scene muttering about the lifespan of a fern, pushed into the squad car and out of my life. My poor heart has been skipping beats ever since.

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