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The Unwelcome Guest

dance on the page but say nothing, so there’s no comfort there, no crawling into Jane Austen or some mindless bestseller. Just you and your Kleenex, and when you run out of that, a roll of toilet paper does just as well. Not only do I not want company, even the most generous who drop by with supplies, I just want to be left alone in my twilight, suspended between blowing my nose and restlessly trying to sleep. When you have a cold, sleep is impossible. I don’t know why this is, I just know that you will lie there all night sneezing until your nose is red and sore, and your body aches as if you’d been driven over nine miles of bad road in a wagon

shows and ignore them in the background as white noise from white trash. I just want to blow my nose and clear my lungs and drift in a sort of mindlessness of misery. Reading is impossible. The words

Interior Decoration by

Stephen O’Brien Easton, MD 410-770-5676


March 2017 ttimes web magazine  

Tidewater Times March 2017