The bevel bottomed bottle (say that fast five times) sitting in a cup was the last thing I saw. At least, it was the last thing I saw while I was still alive. For the very moment my eyes were lazily gazing at the bottle and wondering if I shouldn’t just toss it since it can’t stand on its own, I feel a crack that runs through me and my face pitches forward. It’s strange to feel the moment of your demise yet not know how or why it happened and to have your last thoughts be about a bottle.
No comments:
Post a Comment