Militant Ice-Water

Is it possible that at the same time my mind is cracked open and connected by threads to everything, that it's also fractured and disjointed, skipping the customary grooves?

My brains are spilling out my face.

Two weeks until my last day of work. People congratulate me. They hug me and tell me they're happy. I work on data entry. I'm happy myself to bursting but afraid if I let it take me away I'll screw it up somehow. The day before I start the new job a Voice will say, "We got the wrong girl. You're not what we wanted at all." In my heart, deep down below the ice pit, I know it'll be fine. I can do this. I can do everything. I'm a wunderkind.

I tell you, I stared at a counter top for several seconds, watching it flex up and down with my breath, I looked past the person to whom I was speaking and saw the monitor bounce into the desk and I wondered why he didn't notice. It was like the time the earthquake made the floor roll and the wooden blinds clack together, only that time it was real. It's either that I'm crazy or that four sodas and twelve chocolate covered espresso beans are a cheap substitute for LSD.

And I'm pretty sure I saw somebody's aura. It was green and fuzzy. I always wanted to see people's auras. Seems useful. Under "Relevant Skills" on my résumé I could throw in "Accurate Purveyor of Nimbi, Incandescent Radiation, and all Aura Related Luminescence."

Too bad the job search is over.