Tuesday, August 13, 2013

A Pane Turner



I stared out the library window, wishing I could simply reach into the pane and turn the page. It wasn't actually raining at that moment, but the air was so thick one could see it smear all the world's empty spaces; as if the residue from a popped soap bubble sliding down a giant sheet of clear plastic. It had been a miserably hot week and while I love books and the old, solemn, air conditioned buildings that house them, I was damn tired of reading about things I could be doing if only the sky would explode and send its humidity back into the underground reservoirs where it belonged.
 

I could deal with a downpour, and I love a good thunderstorm, but the incessant mugginess made walking much like slogging through the flesh of an overripe grape. It was slow and sticky, it smelled too sweet and tasted a bit rancid; and it wrinkled the flesh, as if acidic to the touch.
It was there, in that pre-raisin afternoon, that I first made my acquaintance with Edgar Allen Poe; another great whiner if I might be so bold as to put myself in even his vice's company. 


And it was there and then I discovered the secret that Edgar had known, that he'd used to make his life one to remember. "Misery loves company" he would demonstrate again and again. As one with an overabundance of misery I took that to mean only one thing; I was gonna be rich!

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