OH, TO BE HERE ON THE GROUND
”I don’t think thin air is good for the brain,” and Toro could kick himself, or smother himself, or throw himself off the cliff, because there is the pang of an inconsequential disagreement, a thing that does not matter and yet flips his stomach because there was no compliance with anything that flew out of his mouth. He hadn’t wanted it to come out, but it was wrong, anyway, and how could you say thin air was good for the brain when all you did was reveal hidden things and have them revealed to you? That’s all that happened up in these high places, stupid. That was all.
”Of course you are.” Toro nods tersely. And then - ”Do you want to go back?” so he nods again, ”Yes,” is all he says, because too many nightingales got out of the cage last time the door was open. Keep it shut and they’ll stay in, looking as they’re supposed to and never being where they ought to be.
The whole way down, with Michael at his back, there is nothing - liar, there are so many things he thinks of saying and he says none of them until they reach the bottom of the trail. This was awful, he thinks, but then he says, ”It was nice to meet you, Michael. Maybe we’ll see each other again.”
@
"What I say,"
What I think,
What Hajduk thinks,
