He hadn’t taken his sweater off. Not once in the last 6 years.
Your body adapts.
You forget what cold means. You stay in when it rains. You throw away the pants and shoes that don’t match. You become famous among your friends. You make names for the holes that have accumulated. You carry crumbs from delicious meals long forgotten. You have stains that tell stories of spills and celebrations. You smell like everyone you’ve ever hugged.
One day, he decided to take it off, to see how it would feel. It was the loneliest thing he had ever felt.
Reminds me of A River Runs Through It, where one of the characters is a fire lookout who has worn his undershirt so long that his chest hair has grown through it.
ReplyDeleteI really like this one.
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