Jay Lake (jaylake) wrote,
Jay Lake

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For a moment I stop on some bare rock and contemplate the marvel that is my feet. Long, bony toes, as if evolution were part way through changing its mind about whether I should walk on the ground or spend my life in the trees. Tiny hairs spiralling from the knuckle joints of my toes, save the littlest one which is clean and smooth as a baby's thighs. The metatarsals are a subtle texture under the thin skin that tops them. At my merest thought, the toes clench and the skin ripples.

Then than weird, warm snow blows sticky smooth across me and I realize none of this is possible. It never was. For one, my feet have been gone almost since time began.

Also, I really don't understand people who come to a coffee house, then run audio on their laptops without the simple courtesy of a set of headphones. There's a woman near me playing some game with spoken prompts which erupt every forty five seconds or minute. It's obviously not bothering her, so she's fine with it. I don't feel aggressive enough to stand up and be shitty about it.
Tags: stories, wip, writing

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