(inspired Lord of the Flies and The foam days )
Roman crouched against the door with as little noise as possible. It was what he usually did when the crisis came: he stared at the doorframe with a cold eye, focused on the pulse of his heart he felt the beating in his temples and even at his fingertips, under nails. He closed the door after requesting a break to Marylou who was beginning to make her scenes and had simply hoped it would suffice. But it was behind the door, his eyes wet and desolate. Him, he did not know of course, hear nothing, because his breathing became difficult and heavy groans escaped from his throat dry, tired. It smelled like dust bunnies in his lungs, as clusters of sharp stones. Or as water lilies that took all the space.
He heard a popping noise and he knew that it was part of his head that was closed, it was nothing learned. He opened the door of a single gesture Marylou and nearly fell. She Catinat, soft-spoken and sweet, followed him up the medicine chest. Roman took the small tube of eye drops yellow - "+ + hallucinatory ophthalmologist" - and two Propofan in the little green box.
Later, in the kitchen, it smelled like fajitas and decrescendo migraine went away, but Roman was always this strange feeling - the water lilies.
In the darkness of the room, he took his hat for a head cut and his pajamas for a headless body. His eyes always saw things that did not exist, which could not exist. Through the window he saw the bakery around the corner that closed shop. Hot bread, think of warm bread. He burst into tears and found him asleep Marylou like that, sitting at the window, fingers in his ears as if to protect it from exploding, or not to hear the evidence.
He had a little blood on his hands.
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