Chapter 49

The world was quieted, the colours washed down by the rain. I sat in the rain yet remained dry. The only thing that was pictorial was the track of bright red vestiges leading out of our space and down the walkway. My mind dragged me forth, letting myself follow the vestiges until they dissolved into another space several portals down. I dithered. The door opened fluently. The rain lasted to fall without a sound. The scene that saluted me was grotesque; race scattered the walls, a man lie in a crinkled mound on the bottom, his throat tear open delivering his undyed shirt ruined. Stepping over the body I allow myself be guided by an unnoticeable manpower toward the restroom. There were stripes of race on the Niagara. The woman – not his woman – flumped over the bite of the Niagara, her mouth hanging open in a silent laugh, the cold water pruning her filthy face and race drawled down her slack jaw and into the water. A many cigarette butts floated around her. The bathwater gurgled.