Intro..                                                                                 ...Back
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Poems..                                                                                 ...More

       The corridor of the archive department was quiet and empty.
       I warily closed the door behind me  and walked as fast as I could towards the elevators.
On the way: I stopped in one of the open offices  - I was looking for something sharp: scissors
would be best  - but I was so terribly upset and shivery:  that I pulled the first drawer fully
out of the table. 
       Fortunately:    the great crash:  that  occurred as the pens: papers  and  staplers were
scattered on the floor: did nothing more: than move my heart a little higher in my throat.
       The second drawer was locked or jammed.
       The scissors was in the third.
       I tucked them behind my shirt and in three and a half seconds:     I was standing at the
elevator door.
       The whole time it didn't even occur to me: that I didn't have the keys.
       Actually: I have no idea: how I got to the parking lot    - all I remember is my sweaty:
       shaking fingers.
       The trunk was not locked.
       Liam was lying inside curled up and thoroughly wrapped in stretch film.
       Motionless.
       Lifeless.
       His throat was slit wide.
       I wanted to scream out loud: "My boy! My Liam!" 
       My legs stopped obeying me   - the whole world plunged into the stupor of dull despair -
only the cold fury:     that had silently kept me company since yesterday was reaching its firm
hand to me.
       I slammed the tailgate.
       There was a man standing on the other side of the sidewalk:     and he was looking at me
strangely  - I untied my hair and gave him one of my seductive evening smiles  - but I must not
have succeeded so well as usual: because he immediately turned round in fright: and almost at a
run: went away.