Date of publication: 2017-08-24 04:27
8775 Sarah, 8776 the voice replies, 8775 I am Zahra. Do you remember me? I 8767 ve missed you. Are you okay? Are you still alone? I 8767 ve been very worried about you. 8776 That night we devise a method of communicating through notes written on scraps of cardboard. She will write with a pen she stole from her interrogators and I will use a small piece of metal I 8767 ve fashioned from a tube of Vaseline that leaves a mark like a pencil.
We are transported in a van with fogged windows to a hotel in another part of the city. Large, unsmiling men with radios and bellhop uniforms take us to the 65th floor. I ask to use the restroom, where I untape the note and put it in the coin pocket of my jeans.
In my mind, I see us pulling over to the side of the road and leaving the car quietly. My tremulous legs will convey me mechanically over the rocky earth. I will be holding Sarah 8767 s hand and maybe Josh 8767 s too, but I will be mostly gone already, walking flesh with no spirit. We won 8767 t kiss passionately in our final moments before the trigger pull. We won 8767 t scream. We won 8767 t run. We won 8767 t utter fabulous words of defiance as we stare down the gun barrel. We will be like mice, paralyzed by fear, limp in the slack jaw of a cat.
We also hear news about Sarah 8767 s cell neighbor, Zahra with the pink jumpsuit. One morning, nine months after Sarah last saw her, she is taken out of her cell to Evin Prison 8767 s death chamber. She is executed by hanging.
When I 8767 m with Shane and Josh in hava khori, I almost feel worse. Every touch reminds me of the absence of touch. Their situation seems heavenly to me they 8767 re out of solitary! What could be better than sharing a leisurely game of chess, listening to endless stories about each other 8767 s lives, being able to connect without the fear of interference? They are halfway there, halfway to sanity and normalcy, halfway to freedom! I want to feel happy for them, but I don 8767 t know how much longer I can hold it together alone in this cell.
Ever since I found out Shane and Josh were put together, I 8767 ve been full of uncontrollable anger at everything and everyone. And hate an almost violent hate.
Annie replies, in her late-night Lebowskian cadence, “Dude, you’re a mother. You’ve had a child. You’re struggling to make your marriage work, man. You are trying, against your nature and circumstance, to be decent. That’s your elephant!”
Until this year, that would have left me with only two options. The first is to wait until my wife is out of the house and lug out a helium tank. Assuming I do everything right, I 8767 ll die quickly and painlessly but I 8767 ll also die alone. I would have no chance to say goodbye to friends and family, nor they to me. My wife would have the horror of discovering my corpse when she came home, and that would be her final memory of me.
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Here, Smiley locates the source of art in the world, insisting that it is a benefit to the artist to spend time puttering about in the quotidian world, in sharp contrast to Barthelme suggesting that the artist must absent himself from the world in order to more fully immerse himself in the realm of ideas. It is hard not to take Smiley at her word after all, her advice is so much more palatable and practicable. And it seems the proof is in the quality of her work.