A herd of us along undistinguished terrain which I could describe better were I able to see better and recall more clearly. We are all under no constraint we can understand, yet we are angst-riddled under our feathery aplomb like turkeys who intuit Thanksgiving.
Hazel is my guide, and she is free neither. We understand there is a code of conduct we cannot comprehend and that expulsion will result from its violation.
"Can I leave here?" I ask Hazel, very quietly. "I mean, can I get away?"
Her response is silent; seems to be a nod. She would like to leave, too, as would we all, to where we do not know and to escape what we do not understand. We mill, one walks, then another, free associates with others. Knots form and break and reform; listening, watching.
One sits at a desk in this open country, two potted plants marking a door to an office which is open to all sides. "Yes, Ronald, he has developed quite a taste for candy. Loves his Mars Bars and See's." Sneering, almost.
We understand, those who have heard, that Ronald is gone. We will tell the others as we casually meet up, and they will do the same subsequently. It will be generally known in an hour about Ronald. We will mark candy.
Where is Hazel? I look all about. Hazel is gone. Might she have escaped? Or has she been transported, possibly because of that very subtle nod of encouragement?
Then they'll be coming after me next. I look all about, watch everything that moves. We speak quietly, the lines in our brows to indicate insouciant acceptance, the mask we wear. Breaking apart and mingling and then standing and then moving on. It is not a very interesting way to spend time but then we aren't really doing that because time itself has been transported.
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