chapter 52

glass library
twenty, maybe thirty stories above ground
glass flooring of a glass cubicle
I can see the cars below, as small as fingernails
i’m loading a black sling bag with hardcover books
paranoid that the ground might give way
that I will fall to my death
the more books i pack, the heavier our collective weight
which doesn’t make sense
since everything is already in the room.
i’m under walkways
in the distance, i see the lumbering woman
somnambulistic on schizophrenic medicine
i do not call her name, but make strange animal noises
to get her attention
she double backs to me, stops some paces away
puts her hands on her waist
a body gesture to tell me i’m wasting time, just sitting there
i lift up the heavy bag and sling it over my shoulders
she’s in front of me now
she doesn’t make any sound
on the wooden bench, a rectangular, vertical box with no lid
inside, CD cases with no discs
i expect it to be heavier than the books
she lifts it up with one finger
to prove how light it is
#irvingpaulpereira #oneiricnovel

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