Constipated

Translating: Consecutive Substack Story 1164

Deech had a grimace that could have painted teeth on the Packard Grocery wall.

I asked him what was wrong, more serious than I ever asked him how he was when he was smiling.

“My…” he said, then shook his head like he wasn’t gonna finish.

I waited.

He looked up, kinda shocked I was still standing there, and said “My soul…is constipated.”