“’A strange fashion of forsaking’” / A Memorable Fancy #249

“Whatever, whoever I need leaves me,” he said to me, “sooner or later. It’s like I had the plague or something. My job, my girlfriend Sally, my car – everything I want, everything I need runs away.”

He reached for a pencil. It backed off and emitted a slight hiss.

“That’s a cute trick,” I said. “How did you do that?”

He looked at me sorrowfully; I left and never came back.

 [– after Sir Thomas Wyatt]

 

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