Wednesday, January 04, 2006

don't say a word

There was a guy standing in front of me in the train some days back, usual close quarters, looked completely normal, standing quietly, and with this STENCH of cheap country liquor around him. like he'd bathed in it or something.
This is not one of those things you talk about... your social conditioning makes you look up and to the left, breathe shallowly, and say nothing.
and then it's too late because the crowd's in and you're going to be face to face for the next 45 minutes and now you can't step back, or move away, or turn, or even throw up on the bastard.

So you stand in resolute denial while something builds, and builds, and builds with every breath until you know that when the next intake stings your sinuses, you're going to just push him out without a word.

Is this how domestic murders happen?


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