All this glass

She's got all this glass laying around. There's still a damp spot on the couch from Alan's sweat. She's the only one left in the apartment and her mark is as dark as ever. Plus she's got all this glass laying around. What would you do?

I reckon you'd go home to your daddy.

So there's all this glass laying around, and some sand, and she's spilling saltwater everywhere as she repeats a mantra into meaninglessness.

I'm not one of them not me I'm not one...

But Alan is gone and she's pretty sure he's one of them, which weakens her own case considerably. And she's got a mark on her hand, and all this glass laying around.

Things go on in this vein long past sunset, when the street lamps turn on outside her window and make all that glass glitter and sing. And she keeps bringing her heavy eyes back to her wrists and studying the spiderwebs there and contemplating all the rushing fluid in that river.

So she picks up a piece of glass. There is so much of it just laying around and singing.

Nica is not religious. She's not sure if Judas killed himself, or if perhaps he invested his silver in Google stock and lived a long and prosperous life. This is what runs through her head, though, as she takes the glass to the spiderwebs and pours the river out onto the carpet.

Not me not me I guess we'll see...

So there is all this glass laying around, and sand, and saltwater, and all these beautiful rubies, and a woman lying on top of it all whispering something about bad timing.

What did Daddy say? That you can only run out of breath. Right.

And she does.

 

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