Friday, November 05, 2004

coffee and camels

Her sister Abby makes her way down the stairs at a quarter til noon, stumbling into the still dark kitchen, fumbling with the coffee maker, reaching for her carton of Camels. A familiar resentment coils around Dori’s insides, squeezing, tightening. She breathes, tries to focus, struggles to attend to the bare experience of it all, physically, emotionally. Trying to understand why such resentment and rage are there at all, why she feels so threatened—violated. Why her space, her solitude must be so carefully maintained, guarded, defended. Why anything, even the smallest thing, always feels like such an intrusion, a danger.


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