Exorcism

A very short piece of prose.

It wasn’t a split-second realization, something that just came to me one day while I was doing the dishes or leafing through a book or tying my shoes. It wasn’t just a snap, a jump, a jolt to knock me back into the reality of things. It was something about the way the light from the hallway streamed in under the door one morning, and how I felt warm laying there in my bed in the dark. It was something woven between the rays of sunlight threatening to spill through my blinds, something rolling through the crisp autumn walks and mundane afternoons and out-of-tune strings on my guitar--something as simple as 7 A.M. without any demons for me to remember that I hadn’t thought about you in a while.

And maybe life can be compressed into a series of moments when you decide you want to start over.

Author's Note

Wrote this one back in December.

Reviews

[Shannon]

I really enjoy the way you described the slow sort of insideuos way realization dawns. Sublet yet impactful.