“Don’t worry, Hector, I understand. Understanding is what I
do. It’s what this is all about.”
Hector grabbed the end of the garbage bag in Dahlia’s hands
and pulled down heavily. “Sweet Caroline.
I want to die.” He said.
“I know. But I want you to live.” Dahlia pried the white
plastic from his tightly gripped fingers.
“Prove it.” Said Hector.
“I can’t.” Said Dahlia.
“Then I’m beginning.” Hector opened the cupboard that he had
been leaning against and pulled out another trash bag and placed it over his
head.
“Go ahead.” Dahlia said softly. “But since you put that over
your head, you won’t be able to see what it is I’m doing now.”
“And what is that?” Hector’s response moved the bag deeply
in and out.
“I can’t say. I can only do.” Dahlia’s voice was just above
a whisper.
“I want to see.”
“Then Take it off.”
“I can’t.”
“Then talk to me.”
“I can’t.” Hector pulled the yellow ribbon ties tight around
his neck.
“Then I’m leaving.” Dahlia took two loud steps backwards.
“Wait.”
“Yes?”
“I’ll talk.” Hector breathed in so deeply the bag took on
the sad shape of his desperate mouth.
“Why are you doing this? Why are you so sad?”
“Life has just been – life has dealt me a bad hand.” Hector
put his hand to his chest.
“That’s a bullshit answer and you know it.”
-----------------There's so much more! I'm getting even more anxious and excited about my project. I really hope it turns out well. I've been so critical of myself my whole life that I worry I'll give up before accomplishing anything, like I have in the past.
ClassyBiped
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