He never stopped running, you know? He was wearing these sunglasses, big thick black triangles covering his eye's, and a black rectangular strip adjoining them that covered his forehead.
Covering his third eye.
I asked him if he could see through them, or was he wearing them when he met her.
Oh no, you didn't say that. After all this time?
Yes I did! I did say that! I wanted to know! I wanted to know if he was fucking blind!
But then it came.
The men in tin cans. All lined up. In a cupboard. I'd had them processed and put into tins, like dog food. But I was still afraid someone would guess and open a can with a tin opener, and see what I'd done.
Did they?
No, they didn't. I concealed the tin cans elsewhere, but thought it may look suspicious. So I put them all back into the kitchen cupboard.
Were they labelled? The cans?
Yes. With their photograph. I don't understand why I did that.
Perhaps you didn't.
No, perhaps not. But the thought was there. Imagine the tycoon with a flotilla of floating fish canneries. Catch, gut, can. Maybe that's where his last wife disappeared to.
Bizarre.
No, not bizarre. That's what I thought at the time. Sardines and ex wife on toast for supper.
When were you walking the steep steps downwards?
Last night. It looked easy enough but then I noticed that almost every other step was covered in dog shit. I didn't want to step into it, so my descent took what seemed like a lifetime. It took hours. When I looked backwards and upward from the bottom step, the climb would have been easier than the descent.
And so there is your solution. The path of easiest resistance isn't necessarily the best. It's usually easier to walk downhill than climb uphill. But the results can be very different. And not always desirous.
Why do you know everything?
Was he at the bottom of the steps?
No. I began to run amongst a group of people, we were all headed in the same direction. It was a subway. I realized that a man, at the side, lying on the ground on his front was him. I stopped running and went back to him. He jumped up and threw his arms around me, laughing. We sank to our knee's, both laughing. He was wearing the blue shirt, and jeans. He didn't say anything, only laughter was the sound between us. He then stood and pulled me to my feet, and without saying a word, he pushed me back into the line of running people. I waved back at him still laughing. Then I continued this unknown race.
He said goodbye?
No he didn't.
Then that is where you shall meet him again.
What? In the subway?
Yes. The cold green lit tunnel.
Why? How do you know that?
It is the tunnel that separates the dead from the living, you must continue the race alone.
What if I don't want to continue the race? Alone?
You have no option.
But what if I make the choice, not leave it to fate?
Not your choice to make, unfortunately.
I've always made my own choices.
Not this time. It is out of your hands.
I don't like you very much. You are like a tourniquet on my emotions. My psyche.
I'm reality. You not only don't like me, you positively hate me.
I do.
Correct.
Again! Fuck you!
And fuck you too..
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