[“I sat down at my mood organ and I experimented. And I finally found a setting for despair.” – Philip K. Dick]
The ‘despair’ key was right there; I hadn’t noticed it before. Perhaps it was new, had inserted itself in the machine in response to the moods of my own organs.
It’s a minor key, this time. The original of the tune it’s playing now was some fragmented melody – she – used to hum quietly as I listened, held my breath, after we’d fought over some desperate thing.
It fills the house, now, that tune; I can’t hear anything else. It roars my despair.
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