Blue Takes ForeverAnita Naegeli
He was wearing this very blue shirt and something was immediately wrong. I stopped rearranging the coffee cups. Blue takes forever, I thought and started laughing at the wind in my pointy red shoes. So much and too hard. When all I wanted was listening to the kitchen and not thinking about the maze of dislocated tones between the tiles. Maybe I was making too much noise. The rhythm was great, though. Just the words were messed up. Concordance, showing up between the choked geraniums on the window sill, moved the scene along. It was hard telling one step from the other. But then we went to the movies.
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