I have skills I don’t know I have. An imitation of a lab experiment, I’m wide asleep. Jade says I look like a search party, lost. I tell her I’m crawling closer and closer toward the target. She says my clothes may be an asylum, but my dreams are a bull’s eye. Often, I wonder why I am the way I am, but what good is it answering a question with a question? I may be an unknown quantity, but I’m familiar with strangers. Jade says she’s been trained to recognize the signs of counter-intelligence. I remind her that there’s something about secrets that forces me to confess. The radio reports that when police officers are involved in a killing, they’re merely acting in self-defense. It’s not the notes you play that matter, it’s the notes you leave out. Life’s a gamble, but what are the odds? Tonight, only the snipers are lucky.
Appears in is in Vol. xii, No.12 (April, 2019) of Third Wednesday