She trains her binoculars on his window, laughing to herself as he crosses her field of vision. His spotted jowls quiver as he pours out unintelligible pleas or protests to an invisible companion, ignoring the swaybacked pile of query letters on his desk.
A gross, unimaginative man, unable to catch the glimpse of eternal truth contained in the symbolism of her novel, craving slapstick comedy and cheap adrenaline instead of subtle psychological tension arising from the minutiae of quotidian existe
Published on March 01, 2009 07:11