They live in separate worlds, they do. He, with his office job and his affair, never caring enough to say more than to grunt, "Salt." She, with her clandestine taboo thoughts, pushed to the untouched recesses of her mind, unseen by even her.
They sat down to dinner every night, silence filling in the gaps and and blank spaces that have been occupied words and thoughts and feelings.
Silence was their landlord, and the payed their dues on the clock every day.
let me know if i should continue. i was reading the fiction section in my New Yorker and i realised i really like that kind of writing.
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1 comment:
weeeelly weeely cooowwwwllllll!!!!!! wanna heer morrrrr!!!!!!!!!
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