It was only a matter of time before we get here, deep unsettling irony, psychosexual abandonment, romantic antipathy and just a soupcon of background traffic. A passing bus, a ghetto lowrider, a few dollups of plaster falling from the ceiling, and if you listen very intently, introspection. Nice and short, this, so much so that I’m tempted to carry on writing this podCASTpost while you listen, so that your eyes might finish reading while your ears are done listening, so that I can spoil the ending here without regret. But I wouldn’t do that. Not to you.
1 thought on “The Story of an Hour”
This could be your best reading yet, and you’ve almost sold me completely on this story now, one which I’d always considered a litte too, well, you know… Kate is fotunate you’ve made up for her shortcomings.