Publicado el

Grip

fictions

She stared at it, fragmented on the pavement. She hadn’t held it tight enough, had never held anything tight enough. It was not a matter of clumsiness, or carelessness. No. Not that. Perhaps she had always simply tried to carry too much. Perhaps, but that didn’t really matter. Pushing back the cumulative memory of all the things that had been of value, had been accidentally destroyed, — they piled high against the closet door, taunting the latch, and then a small click — she chose to restart the day again, her life again, at that very instant, fresh, for the thousandth time. She knelt and picked up a few large pieces of glass that had become dislodged from the picture frame, tried to fit them back in place. A shiver passed through her as the edge of the largest shard ran lengthwise across her grandmother’s throat, severing the supply that…

Ver la entrada original 1.724 palabras más

Acerca de manonmona

MANON KUBLER. PERIODISTA , ESCRITORA EN RETIRADA. A LA SAGA DE UNA NUEVA CRONICA. PREPARO MIS BALAS. EXPULSO MIS FUEGOS. AFINO MIS LLAGAS. AVANZO. ME DEMORO. VUELVO A AVANZAR. BUSCO ESTOMAGOS QUE SUJETEN TOXICOS Y EXTREMOS. AQUI ESTOY, A LA SAGA, VIVIA Y SOBREVIVIDA PARA LA ALEGRIA DE POCOS, SALUD MANON

Responder

Introduce tus datos o haz clic en un icono para iniciar sesión:

Logo de WordPress.com

Estás comentando usando tu cuenta de WordPress.com. Cerrar sesión / Cambiar )

Imagen de Twitter

Estás comentando usando tu cuenta de Twitter. Cerrar sesión / Cambiar )

Foto de Facebook

Estás comentando usando tu cuenta de Facebook. Cerrar sesión / Cambiar )

Google+ photo

Estás comentando usando tu cuenta de Google+. Cerrar sesión / Cambiar )

Conectando a %s