send the clock and iโll make selina talk about shit she is haunted by irreparably.
โitโs super annoying. feelingโฆ nuts.โ she bounces the ball โ the little rubber sphere, bright blue, bounce bounce thud, bounce bounce thud. sometimes the thing taps beneath her toes and she kicks it as it flies back, catches it to toss. her eyes never leave the ball, her body leaning back and forward with each movement. and now one must mention the chair sheโs fucking leaning on, balance constant, a fulcrum. it leans back sometimes in a near diagonalโ and then itโs on the floor, soundless, over and over.
โno other fucking word for it. the world looks one way to you and then you slowly learn itโs.. just not that at all. someone tells you everything is fine but your head is on a fucking swivel,โ thunk. her shoulder throws easily in, the ball bouncing โ corner, floor, ceiling, back to her hand with a satisfying THKK. โyou see nothing and i see everything. and when i say it, i sound insane. because i am.
โyou know i blew my dadโs head off? carmine falcone. the mob guy,โ thK. her cigarette moves with her words, smoke rising stale through the air, โhe wanted me to run his shit. didnโt even know me. knew i could beโโ THUNK. โuseful.โ
she says the word like it means nothing, to be commodified like this. sheโs a well-oiled machine because she has to be. she keeps moving and yet not moving at all.
โiโm so good at that. being useful. but he pissed me off. so i did the only thing i could do โ i grabbed his twelve gauge and i asked if that was what he wanted. i deserved it. revenge or whatever. i got it. and it doesnโt matter. not at all. you know how i feel? way no better. way, way worse.
โjust as useful as iโve always been.โ
her eyes are deeply brown, but she sees nothing beyond that wall, beyond the way the little rubber ball always goes back to where she expects, and always, unblinking, she receives it. the expectancy is soothing in its redundancy โ itโll always be followed by that satisfied THUNK.