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In The End, The Light

Willis Plummer

The corner of the room wants to feel my feet. I hold the handle of the water jug and walk to the corner. I water the plant and look around. The girl with the b-12 deficiency lives in a house full of dead things. Her dinner table is covered in the crumbs of a dried out fern. Under the table, I feel around for something I can’t remember beginning to search for. Everything is dark, and I reach in my pocket to play with a stack of quarters. The ringing of the train shakes me into alertness. The only thing I don’t want is to be in the way. My fingers touch the keys of my laptop, and I stare silently at the television. Books begin piling on my nightstand. I feel my toes in the gravel and glass and look up at the light shining over the pine trees. I fear the last thing I’ll see is the glowing of the laptop. Where is my heart if not in my chest? My leg won’t stop bouncing, and I wish I could hold in this cough. Resting on my finger, the ladybug allows me to observe him. In the end, I suppose, the light of the laptop screen would not be the worst thing to see.