Tulsaslut [minutelovestory #82]

Posted by on Apr 18, 2013 in minutelovestories | No Comments

“It’s unreal,” she said, “the epidemic length of our many brittle bones.”

He’d told her, months ago, that she tasted like tears and she wasn’t sure if this was an idle, forgettable observation or an utterance driven by concern. It did not seem unusual to her, however. Why not taste like tears?

She’d been counting the number of syllables in his sentences for weeks now. Thirty-seven used to describe the ultimatum that he allegedly and audaciously flung at his employer in the break room. Fifty-four syllables devoted to his account of a speeding motorcyclist nearly ripping off his driver’s side mirror on Wilshire.

‘Covered in the sediment of sentiment,’ she repeated in her head.

“Rats live on no evil star.”
“Madam I’m Adam.”
“Tulsaslut.”
“Eva, can I stab bats in a cave?”

An infant has more than 300 bones inside of its body. These fuse, producing the sanctity of the skull, sacrum, hips, building an average adult body of 206 bones. Pieces are not lost, but bound, becoming something else.

‘A case of mistaken identity, a mistaken case of identity.’

She inhaled and he continued speaking and the buttress, which is to say her entire body, was still.