I keep on crying while she sighs, my head pressed hard against the porcelain. ‘Do you remember Esperanto?’ she says. I try to respond but my neck’s bent wrong and my mouth keeps making this gluggy, short-cut sound like a wail that’s been harpooned mid moan. ‘It’s dead now,’ she tells the ceiling, ‘nobody used it.’ The faucet dribbles and the air vent mutters. ‘Language is universal, only there’s no universal language.’ Somewhere behind her words is the white noise humming of electric beetles thrumming through our walls. ‘Funny, I just don’t understand you.’ My ducts feel dry.
This was brilliant! I really struggle to write short fictional pieces but this is amazing!
Thanks again. I really love writing these short pieces but to be honest I wish that I was better at writing longer stuff. It’s easy to cram a bunch of things in to a little space, making them last over distance is a challenge.
I find it easier to write longer pieces in parts & spread out my work!
I tend to lose patience with the disconnect between my brain and my fingers.
Aha!