ith tight snik he holds silence between his chopsticks, traps it there where it does not struggle.

She asks herself, ‘Why?’ But she is really asking, ‘When?’ Although she has the past about her like a group of unruly friends who do not know when to be quiet, it is the future in which she is truly invested, knowing it’s silly but unable to help herself, and the ‘When’ is her key and monacle so that she may read into that confluence of possibilities through primary second condensed into cataract.

You’re looking at the chopsticks but he’s looking at you and suddenly he snaps them open and now you hear a bird fighting with the wail of a passing freight train.