Not the Listmaker

Not the Listmaker

“He stood out clearly in the crowd.”

 

In a realm notoriously overrun by women, females, bodies of the womb-possession type, uh yea, he stood out. If you were to ask him, he would tell you that, obviously, he knew that he would stand out, but yea, of course, he had no idea that it would be quite so obvious. If you were to ask him, he would tell you that he, “Why would anyone?” would never travel to such a place unless, as is the case now, he must. The older woman sent him, obviously, and so, here he is, sitting, uncomfortable in a stiff chair, waiting for someone for some reason. Just like they way that all of them are, just sent, to find someone or something for some reason. Of course the reasons exist beyond them, but they have lives too, people to whom to attend, lovers to scorn, realities to endure. In the end, really, all he wants is to just be able to sit, forever, right here.