Six Sentences for a Saturday

Six Sentences is one of my all-time favorite places on the Internets; the creativity that is shown by people is amazing. I need to contribute more. Yes, Rob, I say that often enough. But for now, here's a warm-up act, in six sentences:

If I press thumbs into my eye sockets, I get mild relief from the migraine that’s descended like a cheap paper shade over a dirty windowpane; plus, I get this wicked light show as I squish the rods on cones in my retinas.
“Stop doing that,” she says; I can hear her, feel the squint of her eyes, the scowl that’s curled those perfect pouty lips.
“I can’t help it,” I say, pushing and twisting my thumbs deeper; the pain is exquisite, the lights a burst of sparkler light in lightless room.
I hear the swish of polyester come down the aisle, feel her dainty fingers perch upon my wrist, smell perfume that is not hers.
“Is there anything I can do?” the stewardess asks.
In less than 60 seconds, No. 2 engine will flame out and a bolt the size of a fist will pierce the aluminum skin of the 737; at 39,000 feet, the decompression will be instant, deadly: “Pray,” I say, squeezing deeper.


Anonymous said...


quin browne said...

love the line, "feel the squint"