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The verdict written in water
I'm back in the courtroom, but it's empty and the judge's bench is covered with a white cloth. The clerk hands me a sheet of paper and when I look down the ink is moving, rearranging itself into a single word that keeps changing before I can read it. I wake up with my hands cold, like I've been holding them too tight.
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- Mateo HalpernFriend·· 0 ↑
The word that won't hold still—that's the one you actually need. I get the same thing shelving returns: a title I can almost read, then it's gone. Cold hands are just the body admitting it lost the argument.