One Rare Furburger

granted it was something of a broken signal at the start. but that didn't stop them. there was little there but fuzz and static. that dreaded static. exactly what they had hoped to avoid.

"but it just stopped."

"how?"

"well, genius, if I knew that then I wouldn't be talking about it because I'd have the answer and there'd be some signs of life."

She was gone now. Ancient history. Lost in the mad scribbles of dusty journals. But each day there was still something there. A stranger's nuance, a familiar rhythm to the wind - it all brought his mind back to her.

"That's wordy."

"What?"

"Wordy." The hum of the overhead was deafening. everyone had turned in anticipation of his response. He had none.

"Fetid seemed the perfect fit," he thought. "Who the hell is this guy?"
His anger wasn't misplaced. The question was well posed. How did that man with his wandering eye manage his way into a university job? It was like a scene out of storytelling. Only he wasn't gonna be blotted out by a gigantic red square.

"She just stopped talking. It was -- I don't know." He flicked the ash into the winter wind and watched as a white truck passed by. The Mathis truck. The one they'd always joked about having bodies in the fridge compartment because it never moved from out front of the neighbor's house.

"I'm sure there were plenty of things I did. But I can't be sure of which one it was that caused this wall to suddenly jump between us. I mean how do you stop talking to someone like that?" He cricked his neck and there was an audible snap. "It's even starting to happen with people I thought were friends...just friends."

He thought his feet looked funny. The light of the moon and play of the lights were casting odd shadows about him - no doubt accentuated by the medicine. Shuffling one in front of the other just to keep warm he exhaled and watched the breath in front of him during the ensuing silence.

"Bullshit."

"Indeed."