#terriblefool

         ‘ mike? ’ he asks, like it’s going to help the confusion. he holds a hand over his head, swipes a line through the air with a flat palm just above the 6 foot mark, about where mike stands. he frowns, too, both to paint a clearer picture of mike and to punish himself for how he’s about to refer to him, which he can feel is as beyond his control as a sneeze. ‘ my mike? ’

    “well.” tapping the less-favored cheek: “now you’ve made the other one envious.”

not oswald carrying on as if nothing’s happened.

         ‘ these ceremonies really are the most dreadful. every one of them the same, ’ he says, carefully low, to himself. ‘ and they expect us to watch on without moral objection. ’