LIKE A BOWLING BALL WITHOUT THE HOLES, BY LUCY ZHANG |
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My head is in your lap, ear pressed against your coarse jeans covering your thighs, the other ear listening to the woosh woosh of wind beating against the flaps of a cardboard box we never bothered to recycle, convinced we’d need it even though we brought up moving only once five years ago, when we first situated into this apartment and were trying to justify why we didn’t need to buy chairs or a TV or non IKEA furniture. It feels like you’re not human when I’m holding your head, you say. I’m sure, it’s like you’re holding a bowling ball: the center of my nervous system, operating on the rest of my body through pulses along protoplasmic fibers, just puncture a few holes to dig your fingers in and send it flying across the room: aim for a strike, maybe this is how the crack in the drywall of our bedroom came to be: a missed hit, pins still standing, bits of plaster splattered in my hair like snow. I’m sure it’s the power of cutting short the microcosm of communication and synapses that makes me seem less human to you. The pillow is definitely softer, less prone to movement, but I’m staying put so you can lace your fingers through strands of hair, pull at the follicles, shift my head onto your other thigh, feel the comfort of its weight. |
Lucy Zhang is a writer, software engineer, and anime fan. Her work has appeared in Crab Fat Magazine, Atlas & Alice, Okay Donkey, Jellyfish Review, and elsewhere. She can be found at kowaretasekai.wordpress.com or on Twitter @Dango_Ramen.