Pass Fail Freeze
Survival: Consecutive Substack Story 1122
The wind is petulant through the crack in the low-income glass block and my nipples could cut diamonds.
They say the glass block is bulletproof, admitting that the neighborhood isn’t bullet free.
I’m a broken pencil in a maze of ideas but I push the hunk of graphite with my thumb and find the way:
I can only take one shower at a time, so I make drapes out of the extra towels.
The towels cut the frigid tongue licks just enough for me to pretend I’m well. I ride that ruse, until I’m well enough, surviving being the only game I’m qualified to play.
***
The word control here is like the breath control of an opera singer. The poverty felt like some Detroit shit for sure.
Puzzled. But not about the writing. It’s all amazing - but that last paragraph is perfect.